


Lies My Boyfriend Told Me

by masteremeraldholder, purplecrystalgem



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Humor, Lots of it, M/M, Original Character Death(s), an emotional rollercoaster yall, hints of shallura, keith and his sister are adopted, swimmer Lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8981149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masteremeraldholder/pseuds/masteremeraldholder, https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplecrystalgem/pseuds/purplecrystalgem
Summary: Based on Julie Anne Peters' "Lies My Girlfriend Told Me".Keith is heartbroken when his boyfriend Sammy dies of cardiac arrest. He's even more heartbroken by what he finds on Sam’s phone; texts from the mysterious L.M., in which ‘I love You’ is thrown around more times than necessary. Keith finds that Sam has been leading a double life with Lance all while dating him. Hurt and upset by this, Keith and sets out to find Lance using Sam’s phone as a guide. The two are brought together by Sam’s lies and deceit, and both find themselves falling for one another, but how long can a relationship last if it's built on a lie?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read this book in like two days and thought 'damn, this is Klance.'

Keith’s mom never comes into his room, so he knows something is up. He especially knows by the grave look on her perfect, round face.

“Keith,” Catherine says, sitting on his disheveled bed, “something’s happened.”

“Is it Emily?” Keith croaks. She was always sick. Even at the adoption center, she had a cold of some sort that had her with hacking coughs and a runny nose.

“No, it’s Sammy.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

Keith’s heart beats faster and he finally sits up. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s gone, Keith. He… he went into cardiac arrest. He was gone before paramedics got there.”

“What?” Keith just stares at her at, unbelieving. “You mean… he’s… dead…?”

No, no, no. It couldn’t be true. He’d just talked to Sam yesterday. She was lying, this was all a dream. It had to be. His mom must’ve noticed the disbelief in his face, she continued.

“Ashley called a few moments ago… I’m so sorry, honey.” She laid a hand on his knee, looking at him so sincerely, it made him want to believe. But he didn’t.

“No.” Keith pulled away just as Brad, his dad, appeared in the doorway. “I don’t believe you.”

“Son,” He too sat on the bed next to Catherine, Keith just wanted them both to leave, “your mother’s telling the truth.”

Keith couldn’t breathe. “No…” He shook his head. “You’re lying.”

“Keith, I’m sorry.”

That’s when he lost it. Keith scooted away from them both, burying his head into his knees, hugging them, trying to stop the tears.

“Honey,” Catherine placed a warm hand on his shoulder, Keith flinched away like it was poison.

“Don’t.” He said. “Just leave.”

She sighed and Keith heard two sets of footsteps retreating, and finally the door closed.

Keith sobbed, deep heaving sobs until he had no more tears left. Sam? Gone? How would he go on without him? He was Keith’s everything, he never thought they’d be apart and now… A fresh set of tears trickled down his cheeks as he burrowed under the blankets.

* * *

 

Keith wakes in a cold sweat. His clothes are twisted on him, sticking to him oddly, the blankets on the floor. He crawls out of bed literally, and feels for the door in the darkness. Once he finds it, he flings it open, and is met with a cold gust of air, a drastic contrast from the muggy air in his room. He glances around the hall, the only source of light coming from downstairs. Keith takes the stairs two at a time, almost falling down the last ones.

“Keith?” It’s his dad’s voice.

He glances over at him, briefly registering Brad’s tousled brown hair, droopy eyes, and overall disheveled appearance. Keith ignores him, stalking into the kitchen, grabbing the car keys off the hook.

“Keith.” His dad is in the doorway of the kitchen. To look so out of it, he moved quick. “Put those back.”

Keith gives him a glare and turns for the door.

“Keith!”

He yanks the door open, realizing he has no coat or shoes. Still, he steps into the cold, sobering air. It’s enough to bring tears to his eyes. Keith stumbles down the walkway, the air unexpectedly taking his breath away. He leans against the car for support.

“Keith.” Brad says.

“What.”

“Give me the keys.”

“No. I have to see Sam.”

“Keith, you can’t drive like this. Give them to me.”

“No.” Keith clutches them to his chest, giving Brad a defiant look.

“Keith, give them to me. I’ll drive you.”

Reluctantly, he gives up the keys.

“Put a coat on.” Brad orders.

Keith scurries inside and pulls on the first coat he finds and slips his feet into his workout sneakers. He sprints back to the car.

The drive to Sam’s is completely silent. Neither wants to speak or even breath too loud. Keith’s eyes focus on the road ahead and he wishes his dad will just run all of the stop signs because it’s taking forever. He _needs_ to see Sam to prove that this is all a dream.

Once there, he’s out the car as soon as his dad parks the car behind Nima’s van. Keith races up the walk, hoping that it’s all a lie. He knocks on the door, and a moment later, Jason, Sam’s brother, opens it. His hazel eyes are rimmed red, and he just stares at Keith, either too distraught to say anything, or just confused. Then Sam’s mom appears. Ashley bursts into tears at the mere sight of Keith.

Keith falls against the doorframe, the weight of it all tumbling down on him all at once. Sammy, the best thing that’d ever happened to him, was gone.

* * *

 

Keith barely registers his mom's soft voice, he's too lost in his thoughts, staring out the window into the bleak day.

“Keith… Shiro’s here.”

He really didn’t think he could handle company now. But his mom sent Shiro in anyway.

He hears footsteps, and the door closing, then the sound of his bed springs squeaking as someone sits.

Shiro sighs, and Keith doesn't turn around, he can't, he's too scared he'll lose it if he sees Shiro’s earnest face. He’s not sure how much time passes because Shiro eventually stands.

“We’re here for you,” is all he says before standing, patting Keith’s shoulder and leaving.

* * *

 

Keith stayed home from school on Wednesday. He couldn’t bear going without Sam. His mom is okay with it, his dad, who’s a stickler for school, not so much. Keith could care less though.

He checks his phone, finding it full of missed calls and texts from Shiro and Allura. He knows he should respond to them, but doesn’t and is shutting his phone off when his mom walks in.

“Keith, can you pick Emily up from daycare today?”

Silence.

“Please?”

Keith gave in. “Sure.” And he went back to staring out the window.

* * *

 

They met at the gym. He'd been sitting on a bench, waiting for Shiro to show up, and when he finally called to tell Keith he couldn't make it, Keith was about ready to leave himself. That was before Sam walked in.

Sammy Ducote, Keith’d seen him around school, but never actually spoken to him (he was a senior and Keith was a junior). The only thing Keith knew about him was he was _the_ gay guy at school. Every gay or bi guy had dated him.

Keith studied him as he glanced around the lobby, his tawny skin and, dirty blonde hair styled in a quiff, alluring green eyes, and freckles. Tons of them. Keith had to make himself look away. Then he heard footsteps approaching.

Keith looked up, gazing into those beautiful eyes as Sam gestured to the bench. “Anyone sitting here?” The lobby was virtually empty. Was he trying to strike up conversation?  And then he smiled. His smile was amazing.

“Um, no.”

Sam sat down. Keith folded his hands in his laps, suddenly self-conscious.

“So, were you stood up too?”

“Not really.” Keith answered nervously. “My friend decided he’d rather study with his girlfriend than workout.”

“Ha. Mine’s in bed sick.”

“I’m assuming you mean your friend… not your girlfriend.”

Sam laughed. Keith wanted to hear it on repeat. “How'd you know?”

“I’ve seen you around school. You're a senior, right?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, I know Ryan. You're dating, huh?”

Sam ran a hand through his short, soft-looking hair. “We broke up last week.”

“Oh.” Keith bit his lip. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” He stood up. “I really hate working out alone. Wanna d—

“Yeah.” Keith answered with a small smile, hoping he didn't sound too desperate.

Sammy smiled back. A few hours later when they finished, they exchanged numbers.

* * *

 

“Keith.”

He glanced up, face to face with his mom. Her lips a thin, red line, brow set, her disappointed look. Uh-oh, what’d he do now?

“Hmm?” He kicked off his workout sneakers, tightening his grip on the towel around his neck. Couldn't he come home without being hassled all the time?

“You might want to put those back on,” she said, gesturing to the shoes, “I think you're forgetting something.”

Keith’s brow furrowed as he thought, she hadn't told him to do anything, had she? He just went to the gym, she usually wasn't upset about that. Unless…

Emily.

Keith jumped to put his shoes back on, but his mother stopped him.

“Don't bother.” The disappointment oozed from Catherine’s voice. “Your dad picked her up. Thanks, Keith.”

Keith sighed as she walked off. He couldn't do this anymore, continuing to disappoint his parents. It'd drive him insane. They expected so much from him, and if he slipped just a teeny bit, he’d get nagged to no end. He'd keep it all in if he had to, just to please them. He had to.

* * *

 

Keith got up from bed, his analog blinked 1:00. He wasn't sure whether it was a.m. or p.m. He went into the bathroom for a shower, he wasn't sure when he'd last took one. Then he went downstairs.

His dad was in the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea, Emily balanced on his hip. She was a happy baby, a smile was always plastered on her face, even though there was only one tooth in her gummy mouth. At times, Keith could stand to be around her, when she wasn’t screaming her head off about something. He preferred if she just kept quiet, and looked cute, like she did now in a pink tutu that glittered against her dark skin. A small bow was clipped in her scruffy tuft of hair. It was adorable, and made Keith smile a bit. But at the sight of Keith, Emily’s expression darkened. Her grip on Brad tightened and she shielded her face in his shirt.

‘Gee, thanks.’ Keith thought.

“Glad to see you up and about.” Brad mused.

Keith just stared at him. He went to the cabinet for a bowl and into the pantry for cereal. He was pouring milk when Brad cleared his throat.

“Keith… Justin called. He wanted me to tell you that the service is Saturday. Sam was… cremated.”

Keith felt a lump in his throat. His eyes were getting glassy. Keith went back upstairs silently.

* * *

 

When Saturday arrived, Keith took extra long to get out of bed. He couldn't bring himself to say goodbye. Another hour passed and he finally stopped staring at the ceiling, dragging himself into the bathroom. He lost track of time because when he finished another hour had passed and he didn’t even have his suit on.

His dad barged in. “We’re late. Hurry.”

Keith pulled a suit out of the closet and halfway dressed himself, not even bothering to run a comb through his messy hair. Ten minutes later, he stumbled down the steps and out the door.

Sammy's service was more like a party than a funeral. With Kanye West playing and the gentle murmur of the congregation, it was quite lively. Keith was the opposite, melancholy and depressed. He trailed in behind his mom, his dad was behind him holding Emily.

“Keith.”

He looked up at hearing his name. It was Shiro. Beside him was Allura. They looked at Keith with faces so genuine, he thought he'd cry. The two embraced him, knowing that he hated hugs, and for that moment, he just allowed himself to be held up. They pulled away, wordlessly, and Keith followed his mom to a pew further up. From here, he could see the Ducotes: Ashley on the end, Justin consoling her, and Jason and Nima beside him, staring stonily into the distance. Keith looked away from them to the priest standing at the front of the church. He was confused for a moment. Sammy wasn’t a religious person, so it seemed out of place having this at his funeral.

As Keith sat, he noticed the huge picture of Sam in front of the minister, his full smile, dimples and all, and energetic green eyes; it was his yearbook photo. Keith could barely look at it without feeling a hitch in his throat.

He stared down at his lap for basically the entire the service and only looked up when Justin got up at the end for the eulogy. He talks briefly about Sam, how great a son he was, mentioning everything but the fact that his son was gay, though it was a big part of Sam’s life (this sours Keith’s mood a bit). Then he announces he’s about to play a video of Sammy’s last race. At the sight of Sam in his Temecula Valley track uniform, Keith whimpers, covering his mouth with his hand. He sees Jason standing and he rushes down the aisle. Keith does the same.

Outside, Keith leans against the wall, sliding down it to the ground as Jason lights a joint beside him. Neither say anything, comfortable in the peaceful silence that falls over them.

* * *

 

The Ducotes have an open house after the funeral. The driveway is so full, Catherine has to park on the street.

Justin answers the door, wrapping Keith in yet another unwanted hug. He claps him on the back. “I wish you’d spoken at the service.”

Keith shakes his head as his parents squeeze in behind him. “I don’t think I could’ve.”

Justin smiles. “I’m glad you came. Go fix yourself a plate. Ashley ordered enough food for an army.”

Keith smiles politely, silently deciding against it as Justin walks off.

Keith shrinks down, feeling smaller than ever for some reason, and slinks along the wall, hoping to avoid anyone who might know him. He makes it to the stairs and somehow, he’s up them, at Sam’s door. He grips the knob, half expecting Sammy to jump from behind the door shouting, “Boo!” Keith opens the door. The room is empty.

He walks in. The room smells just like Sam. It makes his heart beat faster. On the bed is a hospital bag. The clothes Sam last had on. Keith picks up the bag, in it he finds Sam’s shorts and tee. His phone is there too, he never went for a run without. Instinctively, Keith takes the phone out the bag. He sighs, tapping the home button, and is shocked by what he finds.

Tons of missed calls and messages, all from one person. L.M. Keith strolls, stopping at one that came in the day Sammy died.

_Buenos dias cariño. Hope you had a good run. Call me when you get home._

Keith doesn’t even have time to react, another text comes in from the same person, L.M.

_Please tell me what I did. Please, Sam. Te amo mucho._

Keith slides to unlock the phone, typing in Sammy’s passcode hurriedly (he was one of the only people who knew Sam’s code). He scrolls through the chat, finding L.M. saying ‘I love you’ more times than necessary, and Keith finds himself getting upset.

He hears footsteps outside of the door and stuffs the phone into his pant pocket as Jason walks in.

“What are you doing in here?”

Keith swallows. “Nothing. Just…” Just hoping to find Sammy alive.

“Jason,” Justin appears in the doorway. “your cousins are looking for you.”

“I was trying to avoid those freaks.”

“Watch your mouth, that’s your family.”

“Bite me.” Jason leaves, muttering curses under his breath.

“Are there rats in there?” Justin continues. “Roaches? I can’t bring myself to come in.”

The phone was like hot burning coals in his pocket. Keith shook his head, walking towards Justin in the doorway.

“It’s hard to say goodbye, isn’t it?” Justin claps him on the shoulder. Keith nods, sighing. Justin pulls him into yet another hug, and Keith can feel the older man coming down with convulsions. He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath to keep from doing the same.

“Keith?”

Keith opens his eyes, his mom is there, Emily on her hip. “Your dad and I are ready to go.”

Justin breaks the embrace, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Don’t be a stranger, Keith. Okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall, the first chapter is so sad, but it's gon pick up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith finds out L.M.'s name and some other junk.

Keith's parents must've had good intuition because he never told them about Sam, and yet, they still knew he was dating. 

“So, when’re you going to bring him home?” Brad asked one night at dinner. Keith thought he was going to choke.

“Who?”

“Whoever this guy is you’re spending time with.” Brad chewed his steak.

Catherine pulled out her phone and tapped on it for a second. “You can bring him over after I get off work on Friday.”

Keith lowered his head. “We’re going out.”

“Well, go out after your mother gets home.” Brad said. Keith could tell that he was serious.

Keith remembered how new their relationship was and how he didn't want to do anything to ruin it. When Keith told Sam about it on the phone, he actually seemed charmed by the invite.

“Really? Whoa. This is big, right?”

“No, not really.” Keith explained. “My parents just live in the nineteenth century.”

It couldn’t have been too big for Sam, because he showed up smelling like he’d smoked a shit-ton of weed before he came. He couldn't stop giggling and his eyes were bloodshot. Keith could see his parents glancing at one another as they observed the unusually goofy boy at their table.

Keith coughed and hacked all throughout dinner, trying to cover up Sammy’s giggles and titters. He was wiped out by the time they’d finished dinner.

Before they left, Keith’s dad asked, “Where are you two going?”

“Rollerblading,” Sammy replied casually.

Really? Keith thought they were going to a party. Rollerblading so much better.

On the way out the door, Catherine pulled Keith aside and handed him her keys. “You drive.”

Keith tugged on Sammy's sleeve and told him, “I have to drive.”

He covered this mouth and snorted through his fingers. “Busted,” he said. “Wha’ gave me away?”

His slurred speech? The bottle of patchouli he’d bathed in?

The next morning Keith got a text around 6 A.M.

_I picked up my bike after my run. Your mom’s a total asshole. Do your parents hate me?_

_No, of course not,_ Keith texted back, _my mom has strict rules abt riding with anyone who isn't sober._

_I was perfectly fine._

Except he fell asleep before they even got there. What Keith didn't add is that was one of his mom’s rules he actually agreed with. The next day Keith’s parents told him they wanted to meet with Sammy’s parents.

“Why?” Keith asked.

“Because that's what parents do.” Catherine said. “They get to know one another.”

‘In what century?’ Keith wanted to shout.

“Oh my God!” Jason damn near screamed when Sam told him. “Can I go? I have to see this.”

"Can he?" Sammy asked Keith.

“No way.” Keith said. He was already on thin ice with his parents for bringing Sam home blazed. He was not going to have ‘Jason the loud-mouth’ there either.

“Aw,” Jason feigned innocence, “why not?”

Keith shot him a look that said ‘You know exactly why.’

“What about Nima?” Sam asked. “She is the family conversationalist.”

And Jason died laughing.

The two didn’t come in the end, and Keith was glad. He was already worried about his parent’s reaction to Ashley and Justin. They were free spirits. Both had extremely long hair, terrible tans and showed off a lot of skin.

The dinner turned out fine. Sammy wasn't high, that was a plus. Even Justin and Ashley were on their best behaviors.

Keith's parents never talked about the Ducote’s, and Keith could tell that they didn't approve. Sammy never came over stoned again, so neither of them complained. If they told Keith he couldn't see Sam again, he was sure there’d be a brawl.

* * *

 

L.M.’s messages keep coming in even after Keith gets home. 

_Meet this Tues. Call me, we can meet up after if u answer the freaking phone!!!_

Keith stares at the phone, awestruck by what was happening. Did that mean… Sam, his loyal boyfriend, was cheating? Keith tried not to think of it that way, even though that’s what it looked like.

_Or maybe tomorrow. I can try to leave right after mass. HELLO? SAM!!!_

How desperate was this guy?

_I left fifty thousand vms. Where are u?_

‘In an urn.’ Keith thought. Then, his phone rang. It was Jason. He sat Sam’s phone down and answered, trying to sound as unfriendly as possible. “Hello.”

“Jeez, what’s up your ass?”

Keith sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’m just… not in the mood, right now. What is it?”

“God, you’re bitchier than ever. I was just calling to check on you, but forget it.”

The line disconnected and Keith wanted to scream. He loved Sam with all his heart, but God, did his brother get on his nerves. Jason was always looking for attention. It was pathetic, yet Keith was giving in to it. He dialed back.

“Suddenly in the mood?” Jason said sarcastically.

Keith snorted. “Yeah. No, actually, I have a question.”

“What?”

“Do you know anyone with the initials LM?”

The line went silent. “How do you know about him?”

So he knew. “Um,” Keith thought of a lie quickly, “I saw them on a paper in Sam’s room.”

“Who gave you permission to go in his room?”

“I did, asshole. Who’s LM?” He didn’t mean to snap at him, but Jason was _so_ fucking irritating at times.

Jason sighed. “You don’t wanna know.”

Keith frowned. The call ended.

He was about ready to throw the phone at the fucking wall, but Sam’s phone buzzed. Another message from L.M.

_Are u mad at me? What did I do? TELL ME!!!_

Keith stared at the text for a moment, then swiped it away, and went into Sam’s contacts. The entire list was all initials.

“Shit.” Keith mumbled. He scrolled through the list.

First was A.D. Ashley. Then two J.D’S. Jason and Justin. K.K was next. That had to be Keith. L.M. was after him. Then N.D. and R.C. Nima and Ryan? Sam’s ex? There were only a few more contacts after that.

Keith was so confused. He’d never expected Sam to be the low-down, dirty, cheating type. It hurt so much. He didn’t deserve this. ‘Why?’ Keith wanted to shout. ‘Why would you do this to me, Sam?’

L.M. sends another text.

_Sam, what did I do??? Please, por favor, tell me. Le amo con todo mi coraz_ _ó_ _n._

Google Translate helped Keith decipher the last sentence: I love you with all my heart. A lump formed in his throat. He sat the phone down and hugged his knees. He was _not_ going to cry. He told himself right after Sam died that he would not shed anymore tears because Sam wouldn’t want him too. But now, Keith didn’t know what the hell Sam wanted. L.M. it looked like.

L.M. appeared to love Sam as much as Keith did. So Keith decided there, he had no right to keep the truth from L.M. Maybe that’s why he did what he did next. He typed:

_Hey._

The response is almost instant.

_OMG, Sam! Where the frick were u?_

Keith thinks of a lie quickly.

_My dad took my phone. I just got it back._

L.M. was either dumb or plain gullible, he believed the bold-faced lie Keith told.

_I thought u were mad at me._

Keith sighed. Damn, this dude was melodramatic.

_Nope._

L.M. took a while to respond.

_Still wanna come to my meet? It’s at 5 on Tuesday. Home game. We can go out after?_

The little voice in Keith’s head was saying, no, no, no, but his need to know about Sam was saying, yes, yes, yes. So, he replied:

_Sure._

Then he recanted. He had no idea where the meet was.

_Actually no, I have a thing._

“Fuck.” Keith cursed at his stupidity.

_A thing?_

He didn’t respond. L.M. did.

_You’re not sneaking around, are u?_

Keith snorted. He had no idea.

* * *

 

The next day when Keith comes down for lunch, his mom tells him that Ashley called. 

“She said today would be fine for you to come over and get your things.” Catherine said, smoothing Emily’s unruly tuft of hair.

“Okay.” Keith played with the bowl of soup in front of him. “Can I go now?”

Catherine sighed at Keith’s untouched plate. “Go ahead. Be back before dinner.”

When Keith gets to the Ducotes, the front door is wide open, and Nima is bustling through it with an arm full of luggage. She gives Keith a onceover, continuing on her way. Keith goes in. The house is a disaster. Clothes, bags, everything imaginable was strewn across the floor, tables, and couches. It was odd. Normally Ashley took pride in keeping the house spot free. It looked like she was slacking today.

“Keith,” It’s Justin’s voice, “just in time. We’ve decided to leave for Hawaii.”

Whoa. Okay, that was odd.

“We just need some time to regroup. You can go up and get your stuff.” He lugged a suitcase out the door.

Ashley passed by, waving. “Lock up when you finish. Key’s under the mat. Jason! Come on!”

Jason stomps down the stairs, not even giving Keith so much as a sideways glance. Keith has to resist tackling him to the ground. The door slams.

Keith ambles up the stairs, into Sam’s room, and as if on cue, a lump forms in his throat.

He moves quick, grabbing his shoes and other little trinkets (Keith couldn’t really give Sam any of his clothes, Sam was tall and lean whereas Keith was short and not-so-lean). He almost misses a pair of sneakers behind the door and as he bends to get them, a colorful scrap of paper near them catches his eye.

Keith stood, scooping up the paper. It was a phone number. Under the number was _Lance_ followed by a heart.

* * *

 

He was locking up when L.M. sent a text.

_Hey. You didn’t call me. I left u two vms! We can probably meet up later if u want. Call me!!_

Perfect timing. Keith responded:

_Where do you want to meet? When?_

_Our regular place. 4:30?_

What was their regular place? Keith texts:

_Let’s go somewhere new._

_Ok. Movies? There’s a place in Escondido. Is that fine?_

_Yeah._

_Te amo._

Keith didn’t know how to respond to that.

_See you then._

Keith got in the car, searching for movie theaters in Escondido. There was only one major one. He plugged it into his phone’s GPS and pulled out of the driveway.

Then his mind wandered. Why did Lance (if that was his name) chose Escondido? Was it in between where he and Sam lived? If so, where did Lance live? San Diego? It at least gave Keith an estimate so he could figure it out later. It was about a forty-five-minute drive, and that was if traffic wasn’t terrible, but the 15 was a clusterfuck. Hopefully he’d be home before dinner. Keith stepped on the gas.

It was 4:56 when he pulled up at the Regal Cinema.

Inside, the theater was bustling with people. How would he ever find Lance in this? And, if he did find him, how would he address him? ‘Hey Lance, if that is your name, I think my boyfriend was a cheating, lying douche, and you’re the other guy.’ Yeah, real classy.

Keith dug his hands in his pockets, and went to sit in the lounge area. Maybe he’d find Lance there. It was just as packed as the lobby, and Keith hated crowds (but Sam loved them, so he often put up with them for him), so he walked to the corner, deciding to stand there, and skim the crowd for someone who looked like Lance. And what the fuck was he supposed to look like? Keith had no idea. The only clue he had was Lance’s Spanish-speaking, meaning he had to be Hispanic, right?

Keith glanced over the crowd, finding tons of Hispanic looking people. Dear God, this was helpless. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Useless and futile.

He turned to leave, shouldering his way through the crowd. He couldn’t even see the door, the people around him were like fricking giants, and he was a midget. He cursed his birth parents for giving him such short a stature, and next thing Keith knew, he’d run smack-dab into someone’s chest. This wasn’t unusual for him, being short and all, but what was weird, he looked up at the guy and almost fainted.

It was the most gorgeous face he’d ever seen (next to Sammy’s, of course) and all Keith could think was, ‘It’s him. It’s him. This is Lance.’

He had really tan skin, but eyes of the darkest blue, short kinda curly brown hair, and a smile that’d make anyone’s legs turn to jelly. He was tall, slender too, Keith deduced he could probably lift the scrawny boy up if he wanted too. And he had these moles, one in particular was under his eye, like a little star on his skin. Keith gasped.

“Hey,” he said, “don’t I know you?” 

‘More than you think.’ Keith thought, before shaking his head, no. He wriggled out of Lance’s loose grip, and made a beeline to the door.

* * *

 

Keith was an hour late for dinner. He probably wouldn’t have been that late, but he sat in the car at the movie theater for about twenty minutes, replaying the events from earlier. He saw Lance. The guy Sam was cheating with. He expected himself to be angry, but surprisingly, he wasn’t. He was… confused. And overwhelmed with so many feelings at once that there was no way he could drive home safely.

After sitting in the lot, he went to a convenience store for a bottle of water, and sat in the car, drinking the whole thing in one gulp. L.M. sent a text shortly after that.

_Where were u? I waited for an hour. Why are u doing this to me?_

Keith stared at the phone for a while. Then he sent:

_Sorry. Ran out of gas._

_A call would’ve been nice!_

‘Good.’ Keith thought. He’s mad. Maybe now he’d stop calling.

Keith stuffed the phone in his pocket, feeling sane enough to get on the interstate. It wasn’t as clustered, and he could’ve gotten home a couple minutes earlier if he drove the way he normally did. But he was far too nervous and jittery to do that. So, he drove at granny speed. The clock blinked 7:44 when he pulled in the driveway. His dad’s car was there. He already knew he was in deep shit.

Keith crept in through the garage door, hoping to draw less attention to himself. He tiptoed down the hallway, finding the kitchen dark. They’d eaten dinner without him. He peeked around the corner into the living room. His dad was in his chair. Shit. There was no way he could escape.

Keith sighed softly, sucked in a breath, and trudged in.

“Keith.” He flinched at Brad’s low, ominous voice.

“Yes?” Keith turned. Brad took off his reading glasses, and sighed.

“You told your mother you would be back before dinner. Where were you?”

“Sam’s.” He tried.

“I called there. No one answered. Where were you, Keith?”

‘Fuck.’ Keith clenched his fists. Why were they suddenly so worried about his whereabouts? “I was at Shiro’s.”

“Keith.” Brad rubbed his temples. “I’m tired of the lying. When are you going to tell us the truth?”

‘Never.’ Keith thought. He stayed silent.

“Your mother called you three times, Keith. Why didn’t you answer?”

“My phone died.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, his phone died after his mom dialed a second time.

“Go to your room.” Brad said finally. “We’ll finish in the morning.” 

Keith made a mental note to take a longer time getting ready, as he went up the stairs to his room.

* * *

 

“Hunk!” Lance said, setting his tray down on the table. “You won’t believe this!”

“What is it now?” Pidge murmured, not even looking up from her book. “The soda machine didn’t work?”

“What? Really?” Lance’s eyes got huge. “Oh, wait. That was a joke. Not funny, Pidge.”

“Yeah,” Hunk said, and Lance swore he saw a tear in his eye, “that was hurtful.”

Pidge rolled her eyes, mumbling, “I’m surrounded by imbeciles.”

“So, you know how Sam went AWOL.” Lance resumed.

“Uh-huh.” Hunk glanced at Pidge with a face that said, ‘End me now.’ She just shook her head.

“He finally sent a text Saturday!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we were s’posed to meet at the movies yesterday and guess what?”

“What?” Hunk took a sip of his drink.

“He stood me up!”

“Whoa.” Hunk said.

“Total shocker.” Pidge muttered.

“I get the feeling you guys weren’t surprised.”

“Really.” Pidge gave Lance a sympathetic look. “What gave it away?”

“Anyway, it was a total bust, besides the cute guy I ran into there.”

Lance remembered the from guy from the theater with thick, fuzzy black hair and violet, almost black eyes. And freckles, more than Lance’d ever seen before in his life.

“He ran off before I could get his number.” Lance mumbled, staring at his nails.

“Lance,” Pidge said, “you’re a ho.”

“Ooh.” Hunk clucked his tongue with a shake of the head.

“Aww,” Lance waved a hand a Pidge, batting his eyes, “I try.”

Pidge scrunched up her face (like she always did when she was, as she put it, ‘disgusted with the ignorance of people’) for a moment, then pushed her glasses back up on her nose, and went back to her book. Hunk started in on his pizza. Lance played with his food, suddenly he wasn’t hungry.

A few minutes later, he stood to leave. “I’m going to get ready for practice. I’ll see you guys later.”

Hunk and Pidge shared a look. “Okay.”

Lance walked to the nearest trashcan and dropped his tray in. He sighed. It was exhausting to keep up a cheerful attitude when he felt like shit on the inside.

He pushed through the double doors, and started down the hall, all the while checking his phone for any texts or calls from Sam. There were none.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith learns lance's last name and some other shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was long and hard to write.

Keith remembered one time in particular when Sam took him to Balboa Park to run. It was a spur of the moment decision, they’d been driving around, looking for something to do, and passed a sign advertising the park. Sam almost tipped the bike over with how fast he exited. Keith really didn’t feel up to it, but didn’t say anything. He was just glad he wore shorts and sneakers.

Sam had the perfect physique for a runner. Tall and lean with long, toned legs. Keith, not so much. He had a stockier build, which was perfect for beating the bag, but his short, thick legs made running long distances hard.

It wasn’t a surprise to him when Sam started to break away from him. He just kept at the pace he was at. Sam would realize sooner or later.

Sam had gotten several meters ahead of him before he noticed Keith’s absence. He circled back. “C’mon, slowpoke! Pick up your feet.”

“I am.” Keith huffed, wiping his forehead. Sam hardly broke a sweat. “Can we take a break?”

“Breaks are for quitters.”

Keith wanted to tell him how dumb that sounded, but instead kept his mouth shut. It tended to get him into loads of trouble.

He trudged for a couple more paces, remembering the way his strides went _boom, boom, boom_ , while Sam’s went _swish, swoosh, swish_. That did it for Keith. He crossed the path, stepping into the lowcut grass, bending at his waist, sucking in as much air as his lungs could take.

“Hey!” He heard Sam’s gazelle-like footsteps.

“I’m tired, Sam.”

“Cuz’ it’s your first time running with me. You’ll get used to it after a couple of times.”

“Yeah, right.” Keith finally leaned up, folding his arms behind his head.

“I mean it.” Sam smiled. “Once you get rid of this,” He lightly pinched the skin of Keith’s exposed thigh, “you’ll be able to do it with ease.”

Keith turned crimson, shocked.

Sam just smiled. “C’mon.” And he started back running.

* * *

 

During lunch, Keith checked his phone for missed calls. He had one. It was from Jason. His face must’ve showed his dismay because Shiro asked him, “What’s wrong, Keith?”

“Nothing…” He stood. “I just have to take a call.”

“Okay.” Shiro said.

Keith started walking off, he could hear Shiro talking with Allura.

“I try to get him to talk, but he just puts up this wall.”

“Give him time,” Allura said, “he’s healing.”

Keith just rolled his eyes. What did they know about what he was going through? Absolutely nothing.

He pushed the double doors open and found a corner in between a set lockers and a water fountain to stand in. It was twelve thirty which meant it was ten thirty in Hawaii. Hopefully, Jason was up. Keith dialed his number.

“What?” Jason sounded incredibly irritated.

“You called _me_.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He hardly sounded sympathetic. “I just need you to get some stuff from Sam’s room.

Keith was barely listening to him. “How’s your vacation? Regrouped enough?”

“Shut up, asshole. It’s pure hell here and you know it.” Keith really didn’t. “Get my gym bag, it’s by the bed. And the phone. I know Sam had it on him when he… Check the hospital bag, that’s where it is.”

“Tell me about Lance.” Keith said abruptly. He couldn’t help it.

Jason went quiet.

“I know his first name.” Keith leaned against the wall. “What’s his last name?”

Jason yawned. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just answer the fucking question.”

“Cause yourself more tears then, ‘s not my fault.”

Keith frowned. “What? You’re—

“It’s McClain.”

Keith blinked. L.M. finally had a name. Lance McClain. He seemed… realer.

“Did Sam date him?” Keith asked.

“Doesn’t matter. He won’t find out about you.”

What in the hell did that mean?

“What do you mean?”

“Lance was his ex.” Jason explained. “They broke up when Sam met you.” Then he added, “Get the iPad too. Put it all under my bed when you find it.”

It was funny how he could change the subject so effortlessly. Sam’d been able it too. It must’ve been something all Ducotes’ were good at.

“How are you so sure he doesn’t know about me?” Keith bit his lip.

“Sam gave him a fake name.” He answered simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world. It wasn’t, of course. Everything just kept getting more and more complicated. Keith wanted it all to stop. “He doesn’t know anything about Sam’s real life.”

“So he doesn’t know Sam’s dead.” That would explain the texts and calls.

“Shit.” Jason muttered.

“What name did Sam give him?”

“Samuel Demoine. I came up with it.” He said it like he was proud. It just annoyed Keith, the fact that Sam got his little brother involved in his bullshit.

“Do you know him? Personally?”

“I met him once or twice. Sam took me to a couple of his meets. He’s a dick.”

“Meets?” Keith remembered Lance talking about a meet in the texts. What day did he say? Tuesday? Today was Tuesday. “What does he do?”

“He swims for La Jolla.”

“Shouldn’t someone tell him… about Sam?” Keith thought back to Lance’s heartfelt texts to Sam. He seemed genuinely worried.

“Hell no. I’m not doing it. You can when you get Sam’s phone.”

Keith almost slipped and told him he had the phone.

“Shouldn’t… he be told in person?” Keith chewed on his nail, nervous for some reason.

“Why are so worried about that d-bag all of the sudden? He’ll figure out soon enough.”

Keith usually didn’t give a fuck about people’s feelings and emotions, but… what Jason was saying seemed like something a cowardly wuss would do. Keith wasn’t completely heartless, he loved his family and friends (his _two_ friends); if it all came down, he’d tell Lance the truth.

“Want some native weed?” Jason asked after a few moments of silence. “Nima and me found some.”

“No.” Keith said. And with that, he hung up the phone.

Keith stepped from the corner, running clean into Shiro. He getting tired of running into people’s chests.

“Keith, there you are.” Shiro stepped back. “Are you okay?” He studied Keith with a worried expression. It just made Keith feel uneasy inside. He hated Shiro’s innate ability to see through him.

“Yeah,” Keith told him. “I’m fine. I just… I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay.” Shiro stood there, somewhat awkwardly, like he wanted to do or say something else. Keith turned on his heel and started down the hall before Shiro could.

He turned the corner, keeping on past the bathroom, and walked out the door into the student parking lot.

* * *

 

Keith had only visited La Jolla once, and that was only when he was much younger, just passing through with his mom. He only remembered the crystal blue water of the Pacific and the way it shimmered under the warm sun.

Now, Keith got a glimpse of the ocean as he merged off the 5 into the town, his GPS guiding him to Lance’s school. What was he thinking? Going to his boyfriend’s ex’s school. It was _insane_. It was insane that he skipped school to drive almost an hour away in hopes of what? Crushing another person’s heart and soul to get him to stop texting? Keith honestly didn’t know. That didn’t stop him though. His parents would probably chew him out for doing it, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

Keith stopped at a red light, and glanced down at his phone, which was now buzzing madly. He had several texts and two missed calls.

Shiro: _Keith, where are you?_

Shiro: _You never came back? Are you okay?_

Shiro: _Keith???_

Allura: _Keith, please respond to Shiro before I have to murder him._

Shiro: _I’m losing it here! Respond!_

Shiro: _Do I need to call for help??_

Keith typed in his passcode, and tapped Shiro’s contact, finding several more texts of the same consistency, each increasingly alarming than the next. Another came in just then.

_I can see you’re reading this! Respond please!!_

Keith snorted.

 _I’m okay._ He typed.

_Where are you? You scared me._

It was probably best to leave out his location. He texts back:

_I just needed to clear my head. I’m fine. Stop worrying._

Then he sent:

_I’m turning my phone off, so don’t freak out._

He powered his phone off before Shiro had a chance to respond, sliding it in his pocket just as the light turned green. He drove straight for a couple more minutes, then his GPS notified him that La Jolla High was up ahead, but he noticed an aquatic complex right beside it, and decided to go there instead.

Keith parked on the shoulder since the complex lacked a parking lot. It was surprisingly full. He got out the car, heading towards the Tuscan-roofed building. Inside, there was a thinning crowd of people, and Keith slunk around them to the tiny little window overlooking the pool. He was hoping to catch Lance before the meet started, but it looked like it already had. Keith cursed, figuring that he’d probably have to stay until the meet was over. He’s startled by a voice.

“Looking for someone?”

Keith turns, instantly shocked by the beautiful boy in front of him, shirtless. Lance. Only a towel was wrapped around his slim waist leaving his caramel skin completely exposed. Small moles dotted his skin. A blue swim cap concealed his straggly brown hair, while a matching pair of goggles hung around his long, swan-like neck. He could’ve been a model.

He smiled, but it faltered as he recognized Keith. “Hey… you’re that guy from the movies.”

Keith swallowed.

“Are you stalking me?”

Keith resisted the temptation of wanting to punch this guy in the nose. He would never stoop low enough to stalk someone physically. Digitally… that was a different ballpark. Keith stared for a moment, then cleared his throat. “No, I just… Are you Lance?”

“The one and only.”

Keith scowled. This guy was putting of a douche bag aura. Maybe Jason was right.

“I’m Keith. I’m here about Sammy.”

“Who’s Sammy?”

“I mean, Samuel.” Keith corrects himself.

“Sam?” Lance's face brightened. “What about him? Wait, how do you know him?”

“Um, I'm…” Keith trailed off. ‘His boyfriend,’ he wanted to say. But that’d probably be too bold. So he went with, “his friend.”

“Huh.” Lance tilted his head to the side. “He never mentioned you.”

Keith’s blood was slowly brought to a boil. Then he sighed. He had to stay cool to break the news. But how should he do it?

“You’ll have to excuse me, Keith,” Lance started to walk off, “I have a meet to get to.”

“No.” Keith slid in front of him. “I have to tell you something.”

Lance gave him a puzzled look. Keith sighed. He’d do it fast, it was better to get it over with.

“Sam… he died.” Keith said. “He had a heart attack… A cardiac arrest.” Keith watches Lance’s face slowly contort as he talks.

Lance’s eyes are huge when he finishes. He gives Keith a disbelieving look. “W-what? I just talked to him!”

Keith cringed. Now would’ve probably been a good time to tell him he was the one who sent those texts. But his mouth wouldn’t open.

“I literally just texted him… who was that then? Jason, I bet.” Lance’s expression darkened.

Keith finally found his voice. “He died February second.”

“You're lying.” His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Check the news reports.” Keith said simply.

“I… I have to go.” Lance walked out the double doors. Keith left shortly after.

* * *

 

Keith knows that he’s in for it the moment he walks in the house. His mom and dad are waiting for him in the kitchen, both of them wearing disappointed, tired expressions. Catherine sits up in her chair. “The school called.”

“I felt sick.”

“Keith,” Brad sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “When are the lies going to stop?”

“Shiro called.” Catherine interjected. “I can understand you doing this to us, but I never expected you to shut out your best friend.”

‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ Keith thought. ‘Sam was my best friend.’

“This has to stop.” Brad said. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Keith lowered his head. He hated when his dad pulled that on him. Every time he said it, Keith felt like a little dog getting chastised for doing something wrong.

He shook his head, staying silent. He heard more sighs and whispers and he prepared himself to get laid into. Except, it doesn’t come. After a few seconds of silence, Keith looks up.

His mom is gone, and his dad is studying a book, his reading glasses on the tip of his nose.

Keith chewed the inside of his mouth, nervously.

“Go to your room.” Brad told him. “I can't look at you anymore.”

That brought Keith’s spirits even lower.

He left, zipping up the stairs and into his room, the only place he could be at peace. His family didn't understand, his friends didn't either, no one did. God, he wished Sam were here.

He flopped down on the bed, kicking his shoes off, and pulled his phone out. He tapped on the Twitter icon. It was something he rarely did. To be quite honest, he’d only gotten the app because Sam kept grilling him on why he didn’t have any type of social media. He never did anything with it, even when Sam was alive, he was pretty much nonexistent on it.

He typed ‘Lance McClain’ in the search bar. Three accounts popped up. One was a white guy, the other some weird looking girl with blue hair. The last one was named _ya boi lance_. Keith cringed. That had to be it. He tapped on it, but the account was private. Shit.

Keith decided that if he wanted learn more about Sam through Lance he’d have to get Lance to accept a friend request from him so he could check out Lance’s albums and timeline.

He clicked the friend request button and shut his phone off before he could rethink his decision.

* * *

 

The next day, Keith left the house in a mood. Probably from the night before. He hated going to school when he was upset. He could never focus. And Shiro always annoyed the living shit out of him with his natural good natured-ness. There was no way he would even talk to Shiro after the shit he did yesterday.

Keith dug his hands into his jacket pockets. He couldn’t stand walking to school. He didn’t understand why his parents couldn’t just get him a car, or more preferably a motorbike. At least he’d be able to remember Sam that way.

A breeze blew, sending shivers up Keith’s back. He sniffled. Nope. He definitely was _not_ going to school. This was the first time he ditched alone (he and Sam used to do it all the time), so he really didn’t have any idea where to go. Somehow, he wound up at the Ducotes’.

He took the key from under the mat and let himself in. Once inside, he wandered around, at first touching interesting artifacts the Ducotes had collected over the years, and then he decided to pick up the clothes they left strewn around the house in their rush to leave. He folded a few articles of clothing, then got up to head upstairs, but an object on the end table caught Keith’s attention. The urn.

He picked it up and opened it. The ashes were stored in a plastic bag. Gray, lifeless, and dull. Everything that Sam wasn’t. Keith replaced the urn on the table and went up the steps to Sam’s room. It’s exactly the same. Keith breathed in deeply, leaning against the wall and sliding down to the floor. He missed Sam so much, but sitting in his room, Keith felt he could feel his presence.

In his pocket, Sam’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out. It was Lance.

_What the cheese, Sam? Some guy told me u were dead? If this is a joke, it’s NOT funny._

‘It’s the truth.’ Keith thought.

_CALL ME!!!_

Keith put the phone away. It buzzed in his pocket. Keith just ignored it. No doubt, Lance was leaving a string of Spanish swear words. Keith stood to retrieve Jason’s things, finding the bag (which was surprisingly heavy) by the bed and the iPad in Sam’s bedside drawer. He went to Jason’s pigsty of a room and sat the items under the bed. His head was telling him to leave the phone, but his heart wouldn’t let go. It was his last connection to Sam.

Back in Sam’s room, Keith rummaged around again to make sure he didn’t leave anything. He couldn’t come back here, it was too painful. He paws through Sam’s mountain of clothes, finding his varsity jacket. He wondered if Justin or the others would miss it. Keith decided to take it anyway.

He went to Sam’s bookshelf, gazing at every book. He noticed a black and white notebook sitting atop the myriad textbooks on the shelf. Keith hadn’t seen it before. He pulled it out, opening it to the first page. The handwriting wasn’t Sam’s.

The first page read:

_I love you forever._

_Para siempre, mi amore._

_L.M._

The next page was a poem. The page after it too. A book of love poems.

A small flame grew in the back of Keith’s head, until he felt like he was about to explode. Forever was Keith and Sam. Not Lance. He wasn’t supposed to be in the picture. How dare he?

Shaking with anger, Keith grabbed a handful of the pages and tore them out of the book. He crumpled them up into a ball, kicking them and the book underneath Sam’s bed. Then he collapsed to the ground, holding his head in his hands.

He was crying, ugly, angry sobs. Keith wiped his cheeks, and stood. He grabbed the jacket and left.

* * *

 

When he got home, his mom was there. Thank God. He couldn’t handle his dad’s reprimanding now.

“The school called… again.” Catherine stared at Keith for a response. He stared back at her, clutching Sam’s jacket tighter in his hands. “Where were you? Don’t tell me the Ducotes.”

‘I won’t tell you then.’ Keith thought.

Catherine looked down at her lap for a split second, and Keith took that moment to sprint out the foyer, up the stairs, and into his room. He collapsed on his bed with Sam’s jacket, breathing in deep. He wanted to keep the scent with him forever.

His mom entered, didn’t even knock. She sat on the end of his bed.

“Honey,” She said, “I understand how hard this is for you… I’ve been thinking. Do you need a grief counselor?”

‘No.’ He thought. ‘I don’t need anything. I just need Sam back.’

When he didn’t respond, she continued. “You’re hurting. You’re bottling up your feelings. You won’t talk to me or your dad. You won’t talk to Shiro. Do you understand how worried we are?”

‘No.’ Keith thought. ‘Now leave.’

“Keith, I… we…” She sighed deeply. “Never mind.” Then she stood and left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith and lance finally have a real conversation and it aint pretty

Keith checked Twitter later on. Lance accepted his request. Keith honestly hadn’t expected that after what Lance’d texted Sam. Keith tapped his page. He had 1,467 followers. More than Sam. Keith clicked on his photos and videos. As if he needed more proof of Lance’s beauty.

Lance was gorgeous. He posted tons of photos of himself, posing in some, just standing in others. There were even a few of him in a pool, his arms slicing through the water effortlessly. In another one, he posed after winning a swim meet in nothing but a blue speedo. His cinnamon skin slick with water, and his dark hair stuck to his head, but still curling at the ends.

The photos of him alone eventually faded into ones of him with other people. A baby with big blue eyes and caramel skin like his. Did it belong to him? There were several of him with a short, chunky lady with graying hair pulled into a bun. His mom?

Keith continued to stroll, eventually he found photos of Lance with Sam. They were on Sam’s bike in one. Kissing in another. It made Keith’s eyes glassy. Sam looked so happy. Wasn’t that supposed to be them? Keith couldn’t stare at it any longer. He logged out, rolling onto his back, and staring at the ceiling.

How long were Sam and Lance together? It couldn’t have been too long if he started dating Keith after Christmas. But, who would know? Jason. He probably took the pictures of them together.

As much as he despises it, Keith dials up Jason.

The first thing he says is, “Did you get my stuff.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Yeah. It’s in your room… I didn’t find the phone.” He lied.

“He had it on him. It should’ve been there.”

“Well, it wasn’t. Sorry.”

“Look again.”

Keith sighs. “Jason.”

“Never mind. I’ll find it myself. I forgot to tell you. I want the keys to his bike. I’m getting my permit this summer, so it’s only fair that I get it.”

‘Not really.’ Keith thought. “I didn’t see the keys.” He told Jason.

“Shit. Justin or Ashley must have them.”

Keith never really understood the first name basis Sam, Nima, and Jason had with their parents. It was weird, but Keith never said anything.

“Did you look around the house?” Jason continued.

“No.” It was a half-truth. He looked around the house, but not for the keys.

“Look in Ashley’s purse.”

“What?” The audacity of his statement shocked Keith. “I’m not going through her belongings. Or Justin’s.” Even though he couldn’t see Jason, Keith could imagine the pout on his face.

“Well, that bike is mine. So is everything of his. He was my brother. _Mine_.” His voice cracked, and he quickly hung the phone up.

Keith swore he had never heard anything more pitiful in his life. The fact that he had to whine to Keith about Sam being his brother. _Please_. It was sad, pathetic even. That definitely didn’t make everything that was Sam’s his. It was a childish way to think, actually. Not even a full minute later, Jason called back.

“Check Ashley’s bag.” He said. “The red one with leather straps. She had the keys and phone at the hospital.” His voice is steady and demanding. It didn’t persuade Keith in anyway.

“I want to know about Lance.” Keith had to know more.

“Ugh,” Jason said, “this again. Can you just drop it?”

Keith ignored him. “How long did they go together?”

“I suck at math.”

“I don’t.” Keith persisted. “Tell me. I’ll do the math.”

“I don’t know the exact date.” Jason muttered.

“Estimate then.”

Jason snorted. “Approximately August thirteenth.”

“Of this year?”

“No. Nineteen-seventy-eight.”

Keith ignored that bit. “How do you know?

“I was there.” He explained. “It was freshmen orientation. Sam was my senior escort. We had this camping trip in San Bernardino. I guess La Jolla was having swim camp there too. Their gaydars crossed.”

August 13th was a couple of weeks before school started. Keith was confused for a moment.

“I thought Sam was going with Ryan at the beginning of the year?” Keith asked.

“Sam dumped him in October.”

“So… he didn’t start dating Lance until after?”

Jason snorts. Keith frowned. What was funny?

“What?”

“Are you seriously that dumb? Why do you think Sam gave Lance a fake name?”

Keith was stunned. At first by Jason having the balls to call him dumb, then as he let the statement settle in. Sam was dating Lance and Ryan at the same time.

“Does that answer all your questions? Satisfied?” He hangs up.

* * *

 

The next day, Brad comes into Keith’s room. “What do you plan on doing today?”

“Catching up on schoolwork.” Keith lied. It was always good to mention school when his dad was around. He was actually planning to catch up on sleep since he hadn’t gotten any last night. He was up all night replaying his conversation with Jason. Sam cheated on Ryan with Lance. And Lance with Keith. It was all so stomach-turning, Keith couldn’t get a wink of sleep.

“Okay. Do you mind watching Emily?” That jolts him back to reality.

“I can't. Shiro needs me to help him... um… study.”

Brad gives him a confused look. “Why can't you guys do that here?”

Keith bites his lip, quickly coming up with another lie. “Uh, because he’s grounded.”

Sirens were going off in Keith's head. Where in the hell did he come up with this stuff? Shiro was the kindest, purest person he knew. What would he get grounded for? Helping old ladies cross the street?

“Do you think he’d mind if you brought Emily with you?”

“We wouldn't get anything done. She’s going to distract us.”

He frowns deeply. “Fine. Then we won't go.”

A wave of guilt washes over him because his parents never get to go out by themselves.

Brad sighs and turns to leave. “I guess we'll go to the children's museum. Again.” He’s at the door when he turns around. “And,” He adds, “you could’ve said you didn’t want to babysit instead of lying, Keith. I know we taught you better.” He closes the door.

Guilt-trip overload.

Keith knows that he can't babysit. The last time he did, Emily almost died.

It was the day his parents left him and Sam alone with Emily. They'd gone out on a real date, the first they'd had in a while, and reluctantly agreed to Keith’s pleas of having Sam over while they watched Emily.

Everything was going smooth, Emily was sitting in a warm basket of clothes that Keith'd just pulled out the dryer. She was babbling and chewing on her finger. Keith decided to take a break, and plopped down on the couch next to Sam.

He tapped on his phone for a second then shut it off, sliding it him his pocket. Sam smiled, that cool, lazy smile that could get Keith to do just about anything. His eyes were dark with intent. And he set in on Keith, his lips were warm against Keith’s neck.

Keith laid back on the couch, Sammy falling on top of him, covering him like a blanket. Sam’s need and intent was palpable from the way he gripped Keith’s hips, clawing at them gently. Keith felt like he was on fire.

He was getting ready to tell Sam he was ready when he heard a weird noise. Keith pushed on Sam’s chest, wiggling out of his grasp, finding Emily, almost on her back, choking.

Keith leaped of the couch, picking up his little sister. Her eyes were watery, she was making this noise that sounded like a sniffle and cough. It scared the bejesus out of Keith.

“Sam!” Keith cried. “Call nine-one-one.”

Keith swiped a finger in her mouth, hoping it was just barely lodged in there. No luck. He flipped her over, draping her across his arm, and beat her on the back. He was almost in tears, he felt like was going to break her, dear God, kill his sister.

A couple blows in, she hacked and an object flew from her mouth, landing on the floor by Sam’s foot. Sam, who’d pulled his phone back out and was tapping away on it, looked at it.

“A button.” He said.

Before Keith could even react, Emily began to wail and squirm. Keith carried her around the room, rubbing her back and whispering in her ear, desperately trying to calm her. Keith had never seen her cry so hard.

He warmed a bottle for her and she settled down a bit, but Keith couldn't stop shaking. All he could think about was how irresponsible he had been. And Sam… He wanted to pick up where they’d left off.

After that, Emily always looked terrified whenever Keith came around. Like she knew she was in impending danger.

* * *

 

Keith showered to wash away the memory. It didn’t help much. He flopped down on his bed, and pulled out his phone, logging onto Twitter. There’s a message in his inbox.

It’s from Lance. _I don’t understand._

He must’ve seen Keith’s few photos of Sam.

 _He lied to you._ Keith types back. Sam lied to both of them, actually.

 _We need to talk._ He responds. _Call me?_ He’s included his number.

Keith has the sudden urge to shut his phone off and pretend this never happened

He goes to log off, but another message has arrived. _Please._ It says.

Keith sighs. Why did he start this shit?

He almost makes the mistake of using Sam’s cell. Lance answers on the first ring. “This is Keith.” He says.

Lance inhales and exhales a stuttered breath. “I can’t believe he’s dead.” His voice cracks on the last word. “I found his obituary online, and the date matched the one you said.”

Keith sucks in a breath. He feels his eyes getting watery.

“Did you know that Jason was texting me this whole time?” He asks.

Keith cringes. “No.”

Lance starts sniffling again.

“Do you want to meet?” Keith asks.

He blows his nose. “I have to work at two.”

“Where do you work?”

“In La Jolla. At one of the malls.”

Keith checks his clock and it’s a little after ten. His parents will probably be gone until early afternoon.

“We could meet now.” Keith says.

“Where?” Lance sniffles.

“I don’t know.”

“There’s a McDonald’s in Escondido right off the 15. Do You know where that is?”

“Yeah.”

He adds, “It might take me forty to forty-five minutes.”

“Okay.”

Lance stays on the line, like he wants to say more. Or is waiting for Keith to speak. Then he starts crying again and disconnects. Keith hangs on a moment longer, regaining his equilibrium.

* * *

 

Keith takes his time getting ready. He combs his bangs back and out of his face, the way Sam usually wore his, and then he combs it back down. As if it might remind Lance. Like he would care. He tries on different outfits and stops after the second one when he remembers that it’s not a date.

When he gets to the McDonald’s he finds Lance in a corner booth hugging his knees, his face buried between his arms. There’s a cup on the tabletop in front of him.

Keith isn’t really sure how to address him, so he just sits and clears his throat. Lance looks up, his face is flushed. He looks ultimately defeated. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling, and takes a shuddering breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Keith crosses his arms. They’d get nowhere if he didn’t start talking.

Lance lays his head on his knee. “When did you find out?”

Find out what? _Oh._ “Um,” Keith says, “the day it happened.”

“Why would he tell me his name was Samuel Demoine?”

“Because he was dating someone else at the same time.” Keith didn’t mean to say it that harshly, it just slipped out.

“W-what?” He sits up. “How do you know that?”

“Jason told me.”

“That… _culo_.” Lance’s face darkens. “I’d expect that from him. Y’know, Sam told me he was prejudiced against Hispanics. But he must be just plain sick to text me for two weeks and make me think Sam was still alive. That’s cruel.”

As if on cue, Keith broke out in a fit of coughs. Lance studied him for a moment, and pushed the cup towards him. “Here. I haven’t touched it.”

Keith accepts the drink. The cold, fizzy liquid soothes his throat. He ponders on Lance’s statement. Keith’d never known Jason to be racially biased. He pretty much hated everybody. That was just the way he was.

“If you’re hungry,” Lance murmurs into his knee, “I’ll buy you something… since I made you come here and all.”

“I’m fine.” Keith manages. He took another sip, wondering whether he should tell Lance he was the one who sent the texts. It seemed like a good time. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“I didn’t even get to say a rosary for him.” Lance swallows hard. “Did he have a service?”

“More like a party.” Keith recalled the upbeat atmosphere of Sam’s funeral.

Lance’s face wrinkles. “Why would you have a party when someone passes?”

‘Exactly.’ Keith thought. “Justin and Ashley wanted to celebrate his life.”

“Who are they?”

Keith frowned. “Are you serious? His parents.”

Lance’s eyes widen. “You met them?”

Keith nods. “They’re free spirits like he is, um, was.”

“I’m still getting used to that too.” Lance turned, staring out the window. He looked amazing even in distress. “I don’t understand how someone can be here one day, and gone the next.” Keith didn’t either. It really put everything into perspective. “I guess,” Lance continued, “he was lying about everything, then. Did he even live in La Sierra?”

“No. He lived in Temecula and went to Temecula Valley.”

“Oh God.” Lance covers his eyes. “I just… I don’t understand. Why would he do this?”

Keith takes a deep breath. This was _really_ bugging him. Lance’s crying and the fact that Sam did this to them. Keith hugged himself tighter. He wasn’t going to cry in front of this, this… stranger.

“I saw your pictures on Twitter.” Lance says, his voice is soft, fragile even. “How… how long were you with him?”

“Since Christmas.” Keith answered.

Lance nodded. “February twentieth would’ve been our six-month anniversary. We were going to get married after graduation.”

Keith almost broke out into a fit of coughs again. “What? Jason said he broke up with you.”

Lance snorted. “If you haven’t realized, Jason’s a dirty, stinking liar. A heartless, soulless liar.” He paused. “I bet he told you about me, huh? He must’ve been jumping with joy to tell you Sam was cheating on you.”

Keith frowned again. “I found out on my own, actually.

“Right, he had no part in it? I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “I’m not lying. I found clues, like your poetry book.”

“And you’re telling me Jason didn’t have _anything_ to do with it? You just said he told you Sam was cheating on me.” Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re as big a liar as Jason.”

“I am _not_ a liar.” Keith found himself leaning forward onto the tabletop. “You didn’t leave an exactly _inconspicuous_ trail. I found your cheesy book of lies and the ph—”

Keith caught himself before he said phone. He just bit his lip and looked away.

“What? What else other than my _cheesy book of lies_?” Lance paused. “Y’know, you’ve got a lot to say about what I did for Sam, but it doesn’t look like you gave him anything.”

Keith did plenty for Sam. He spoiled him with treats after their tri-weekly work outs, and paid for their dates most of the time. Lance was overstepping it now.

“I gave Sam plenty.” Keith swallowed.

“Oh, really? Name one thing.”

Keith just stared back at Lance, his eyes were slits.

“Exactly.”

Keith looked down at his lap. Everything he said was true. None of the things he did for Sam were as meaningful as a book of poetry. Suddenly Keith felt puny and insignificant sitting at the table with Lance.

“You’re a liar and you gave lousy gifts. Some boyfriend you must’ve been.” Lance sneered.

Keith felt a sharp pang of anger wash over him and he clenched his fist tightly, for fear that he would slap Lance into next week. He bit his lip and racked his mind for something, anything he could say to hurt Lance. Even if it was a lie.

“He didn’t even want those poems. They were shoved under his bed like the fucking garbage they are.”

The hurt was palpable on Lance’s face. It made Keith feel good on the inside, which was sick. He didn’t care, though. Lance needed to stay in his place.

“Okay,” A tear or two slid down Lance’s face as he stood, “I can’t handle this negativity right now.” He walked briskly past Keith and out the door, his head in his hands.

* * *

 

Lance got on the road, teary-eyed. He could hear his papá’s lectures in the back of his head. ‘Never drive while crying, Lance. It’s dangerous, and besides that, it makes you look like a wacko in front of your fellow drivers. Then you have to play it off like you’re listening to sad music or something and it gets really, really awkward.’ It was so corny, but it got the point across. Lance wished he’d taken his dad’s advice, but he couldn’t stay there with that _asshole_. It was like talking to Jason himself, rude and uncaring of anyone’s feelings. Lance didn’t understand how someone as callous as Jason could be related to someone as sweet and kind as Sam. A fresh set of tears trickled down Lance’s cheeks as he thought about Sam.

He’d been blindsided when he checked the death records online, and found Sam’s face above a whole different name. It felt like his heart had been pulled clean out of his chest and ran over by an eighteen-wheeler. He was numb too, like he couldn’t go on without Sam. Lance sucked in a breath to try and calm himself, but more tears came, and he couldn’t see anything. But he felt everything on him at once. Sam never coming back, him being alone once again, and Keith’s cruelness.

Lance wiped his eyes enough to see the road clearly, and pulled over into a parking lot. He took his phone out, dialing Hunk’s number. He answered on the second ring.

“What’s up, buddy?” And Lance broke down in sobs at hearing Hunk’s cheerful voice. How could be so upbeat all the time? “Lance? What’s wrong?”

“I… Sam… he’s gone, Hunk.”

“What? Lance, calm down. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t,” He took a shuddering breath, “I… I need you, Hunk.”

“Okay. Where are you?”

Lance glanced around him for anything to help locate himself. “I… I’m in a parking lot.”

“Okay,” Hunk’s voice was so calm, “what do you see? Tell me something. Anything.”

“Um… I see a mall. It says Westfield North County.”

“Okay. Hang on, Lance. I’m leaving right now.”

“…Okay…”

Hunk hung up. Lance sniffled a bit and then scrambled over console into the backseat of the car. He laid on his back and stared up at the roof of the car. He took some deep breaths and sat up, desperately trying to calm down. It felt like forever before he noticed the little, yellow Beetle pulling up in front of him.

Hunk got out of the drivers’ seat and surprisingly, Pidge got out of the passengers’ seat. The two opened the rear doors and got in.

They were all piled up in the back seat, Hunk was wrapping Lance in one of his world-famous hugs, and Lance just breathed in his scent. He always smelled like cookies and something sweet. It made Lance feel safe. Pidge was the quietest she’d ever been. Just patting Lance’s shoulder and then eventually, Lance felt her lay her fuzzy little head on his back. He felt so full and warm, like he was at home.

“Lance,” Hunk spoke after what felt like a millennium, “tell us what’s going on.”

Lance sniffled. “It’s bad, Hunk. Really bad.”

“Take your time.” Hunk whispered. Lance could feel Pidge rubbing these small circles on his back. It was calming.

“Sam… he’s… he’s dead, Hunk.” Tears spilled out his eyes.

“Oh my god.” Hunk pulled away. He had tears in his eyes too. “Lance, I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t even find out from his family. His other boyfriend told me.”

“You mean…?” Hunk went silent.

“Yeah… He was cheating on me. He gave me a fake name and all.”

“Oh, Lance.” Hunk brought him back in for another hug.

“The cute guy I saw at the movies… that’s him. His name’s… Keith.”

“Did you meet with him today?” Hunk asked, patting Lance’s back.

“Yeah… He was so rude. The stuff he was saying, I just…” Lance took a breath. “I had to leave.”

A gentle silence fell over the trio. Lance felt calm after all of that crying. But now he was thirsty. He wished he’d kept his coke. He patted Hunk’s chest for him to let him go.

As soon as Lance was out of Hunk’s hug, he was in another bone-crushing one. Pidge’s skinny little arms were strong. “Do you want us to beat him up for you?”

Lance smiled.

“Uh, no. We’re not fighting anyone.” Hunk said.

“I’ll do it myself then.” Pidge mumbled into Lance’s back. “What’s his full name? Where does he go to school?”

“Um, I think Temecula Valley. I don’t know his whole name.”

“Don’t worry about it. _I’ll_ take care of it.” Pidge said with a hint of mischief in her voice.

“No, you won’t.” Hunk smiled. So did Lance. He felt a lot better now.

“Try and stop me.” Pidge smirked. “By this time tomorrow, I’ll know that SOB’s address.”

Hunk and Lance laughed. Lance hoped that Pidge was just saying it to make him laugh though. He didn’t really want his friends to meet that _puto_.

“Thanks guys...” Lance said softly. “But, I don’t think I’ll ever want to see him again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a good meeting for our boys, eh? this chapter was supposed to be mostly keith-centric, but we thought it'd be good to give pidge and hunk some time with lance.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith takes lance to sam's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slow chapter, ya'll.

Keith’s fourth hour was English. He had the weirdest teacher ever. Coran. He never went by his last name, just _Coran_ , and was completely fine with students calling him that. He also spoke in this nasally accent; Keith could hardly understand what the man was saying. Keith wanted to transfer out of the class the moment he got in, but Coran turned out to be a friend of Allura’s and Shiro’s. The two gave Keith a death stare at the faint mention of dropping out.

Coran was twirling his mustache now; the way he did when the was about to give out a shitload of work.

“Alright. I’m giving an essay. A _persuasive_ essay.” He walks to the board and in swoopy script writes: _Topic: Ignorance is Bliss_

“I’m going to need some of you to take the opposition. Any volunteers?”

No one raised their hand. Just a single, solitary cough.

“Who was that?” Coran’s eyes found Keith. “Ah, Keith! Thanks for volunteering.”

“What? I didn’t raise my hand.”

“Yes, but you coughed. That’s an action.” He smirked. “You’ll take the opposition.”

“Which is?” Ignorance is… _ignorance_?

“You’ll figure it out.” Coran smiled and turned on his heel. Keith scowled.

At lunch, Keith laid his head on the table and didn’t even bother to pick it up when Shiro and Allura sat down.

“Look at him. He looks so pale.” Shiro could _not_ whisper.

“He always looks that way.” Allura answered. “Leave him be.”

Keith didn’t appreciate them talking about his appearance, hell, he knew he was pasty. He didn’t need anyone else to point that out. He looked up, his eyes barely visible behind his bushy hair.

“Looks like he’s still upset with you.” Allura mused.

“What! What did I do?” Shiro stared at Keith (his hair, rather). “What'd I do, Keith?”

“Maybe because you called his parents and he got a punishment?” Allura said, studying a book. “Just a guess.”

“Is that it?”

Keith just stared at Shiro.

“See! He does _that_ and I don’t know what it means! You talk to him.” Shiro told Allura.

“No, no. This isn't my battle, I'm afraid.”

Shiro huffed. “I’m just going to keep quiet.”

“Hm.” Keith laid his head back down. “I highly doubt that.”

“Hey!” He heard Shiro say, and then Allura’s snickering. It made Keith smile.

“I don’t talk that much? Do I?” Shiro asked.

“Mm. Sometimes.” Allura answered. “Personally, I think you like hearing your voice.”

That got a laugh out of Keith. He propped up on his arms, watching as Shiro’s face turned red.

“I do not.”

“Mhm. Then why’re you still talking?”

Shiro opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it closed quickly.

“You won’t last ten minutes.” Allura went back to her book, and Shiro sat there, his lips pursed. Keith was ecstatic. Lunch would be over in eight minutes. Shiro, trying to prove he could, would keep silent until then. Peace at last.

Keith snoozed for the remainder of lunch and went to his next class, surprisingly mellow.

* * *

 

Keith got home and went straight to his room. He had a killer headache. Hopefully he could get in a nap before his parents got home.

He threw his bag in the corner and collapsed on his bed. He fell asleep fully dressed.

He woke up to the smell of coffee. His parents were home.

Keith stretched, and hopped up to start on some homework. Twenty minutes or so later, his dad called him. Grateful for the break, he sprinted down the stairs, his dad was in his chair, holding Emily.

“Can you get the door? I’m kinda busy here.”

Keith nodded and headed for the door, wondering who it could be. He opened it, finding Shiro and Allura. Keith just stared at them.

“I’m certain you have photos of us to ogle at, Keith.” Allura said.

“Aren’t you going to invite us in?”

‘No.’ Keith thought. But his dad would ask who was at the door. Before he could react, Shiro gently nudged him aside and the two came in.

“W-wait. What are you doing here?” Keith zipped in front of them, blocking the walkway.

“We were worried about you.” Shiro said.

“I told you I’m fine.” Keith’s voice was forceful, and echoed because of the room’s tall ceilings.

“Keith? Who’s at the door?” Brad called. Keith just slumped down and let Allura and Shiro by. “Shiro! Allura!” He heard Brad say, and then Catherine’s voice too.

“Shiro’s out there?” She came out the kitchen with a smile which quickly faltered when she noticed Keith slinking along the wall to escape. “Keith? What’re you doing? Your friends are here.”

Keith scowled, and trudged into the living room after Catherine. Allura was seated on the sofa next to Brad’s chair playing with Emily, Shiro beside her was having a particularly animated conversation with Brad.

“I hope your season’s been great. Keith hasn’t told us anything about it.” Brad said, giving Keith a look. Shiro was the starting pitcher on Temecula Valley’s baseball team.

Keith just shrugged before falling down on the couch next to Shiro. Catherine sat in the recliner adjacent to Keith.

“It’s been pretty good.” Shiro told Brad. “We’re undefeated. Hopefully it stays that way.”

“Good!” Brad sounded actually pleased. Keith rolled his eyes. He probably wished he had a son like Shiro, who was a lot more social and knew exactly what he wanted to do in life. “I bet you’ve got quite a few colleges looking at you now.”

“Yes sir. A couple.” A faint blush dusted Shiro’s cheeks. Keith frowned. Add humble to the list of things Shiro had on him.

“And what about you, Allura?” Catherine added.

“A few.” Allura handed Emily off to Shiro. “Stanford’s among them.”

“That’s amazing.” Catherine beamed. “Wow. We’ve missed so much. You guys hardly ever come over anymore.”

“That’s actually why we came today.” Shiro said, looking at Keith. “We haven’t seen much of Keith. Even at school.”

“But... I thought he came over to your house yesterday?”

Keith suddenly became very aware of the predicament he’d put himself in. His mountain of lies were about to catch up with him.

“Pardon me?”

“Well,” Catherine continued, “Brad told me Keith said you were grounded. Didn’t he come over yesterday?”

Keith shut his eyes tight, keeping silent.

“I never got grounded.” Shiro sounded hurt now. “Keith, are you telling lies?”

Keith cracked and eye, finding all pairs of eyes in the room on him. Even Emily’s big brown ones. Keith flushed. Even a baby could see that he was guilty. He stood mutely, walking clean out the room and up the stairs. Maybe now they’d leave.

Keith flopped down on his bed, pulling a pillow over his head. He just wanted to be alone. Moments later, he heard a knock. He couldn’t get peace in his own home.

“Keith?” It was Shiro. “Can we come in?”

Keith didn’t say anything. The door opened.

“Keith?”

“What?”

There was a noise, a chair leg scraping across the floor, and then babbling. Emily? Keith peeked from under the pillow. Sure enough, Emily was there on Shiro’s leg, Allura beside him.

“Talk to us.” Shiro said. “Please. Tell us what’s going on. We’re worried.”

Keith snorted, covering his head again. That was the same BS his mom’d told him.

“You were never this shut off. Even when Sam was alive… Is it about him?”

Keith swallowed. “In a way.”

“Then what is it?” Allura asked. “We won’t tell your parents, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It really wasn’t. He was worried about them suddenly unearthing his lies and _then_ telling his parents. It was more or less the same. Reluctantly, Keith came from under his pillow, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap.

Keith took a breath. “Sam was… cheating.”

“Keith…” Allura whispered.

“I’m so sorry.” Shiro offered. It was far too late for useless apologies.

Keith looked at his lap. “Yeah, well, it’s in the past.”

“How’d you find out?” Allura asked.

“I, uh… I found his other boyfriend’s love poems.” He lied.

“Wow.”

“How do you know it was his other boyfriend?” Shiro questioned.

“Um… I met him.”

“Really? When?”

“We met formally yesterday.”

“What’d he say?”

“He was pretty torn up about it.” Keith remembered Lance’s continuous tears. “He was crying when he left.”

“What’d you do?” Allura stated.

“Why do you think it was me?” Keith glowered. Lance wasn’t particularly innocent.

“You have an, um, _overbearing_ personality.”

Keith stared at her for a second, then he sighed. “I may have insulted his poetry.”

“Keith!” Shiro squawked.

Keith grimaced at the unpleasant sound. “He was calling me a liar.”

“He’s not far off, y’know?”

Keith rolled his eyes. Suddenly, his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“I assume you know where Sam lives?”

Keith took in a breath. It was Lance. Even after all of the hateful things he said yesterday, he still called. And he sounded pissed, to be frank.

“Take me there?” It sounded more like an order than a request. Keith set the phone down, and rubbed his temples.

“Who is it?” Shiro asked.

“Lance.”

“Is that the ex?”

Keith shot them a thumbs-up.

There was a gasp. Then Allura spoke. “Well, what does he want?”

“He wants me to take him to Sam’s house.” Keith glanced up. “I don’t want to.”

“You should.” Shiro said, bouncing Emily up and down on his knee. “It’s the least you can do after what you did to him.”

Keith sighed, collapsing back on the bed, covering his face with his hands.

“Keith…” Allura said. “He’s hurting too. He has every right to know.”

“Tell him yes.” Shiro added.

Keith sat there. How in the hell were these his friends? They were supposed to take his side. Not the enemy’s. Keith picked the phone up. He desperately wanted to hit end call, but took Shiro and Allura’s advice and brought the phone back to his ear.

“Lance?”

“Oh, there you are.”

“I… I’ll take you.”

“Really? When are you free?”

“Whenever.” Keith just wanted to get it over with.

“How about now? I could meet you at Temecula Valley. I want to see his real school, too.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be in a blue Camry.”

Keith hung up.

“So?” Allura asked.

Keith stood, grabbing his coat off the desk. “So, I have to take him to Sam’s.”

“Now?” Shiro said.

“Yeah. What time is it?”

“Four-thirty.”

Keith nodded.

“We’ll walk out with you.” Allura stood, heading for the door. Shiro stood with Emily, following her.

* * *

 

His Camry was there when Keith got there, which was a surprise. Didn’t he live in La Jolla? How’d he get here so fast?

Keith pulled up next to him, but he didn’t get out. Keith huffs, and opens his door, walking to the car. He taps on the glass with his knuckle. Lance just unlocks the door. Did he want Keith to get in?

Keith pulled on the handle, and got in. The car smelled like some type of musky cologne. Keith wrinkled his nose, not trying to hide his disgust.

“Hey.” Lance says softly.

“Hi.” Keith replied and turned to look at him. The moment he does it he wishes that he hadn’t. Lance was smiling and giving him a look so innocent and kind that Keith thought he’d die from guilt right then. Keith smiled back at him and he felt ashamed of what he’d said to Lance the day before.

“Look…” Keith mumbles, “…the things I said yesterday…I didn’t mea—

“It’s fine… Just forget it, okay?”

Keith nods, unsure of what to say back. He starts to latch up his seatbelt when Lance adds, “I’ll drop you off here afterward, so you can get your car.”

 Without even thinking, Keith says, “It’s my mom’s car. I don’t have my own.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Lance pulls out of the lot and Keith tells him to take a left at the light. There’s a couple beats of silence. Then he asks, “Did you and Sam always meet at your house, then?”

Lance blinks, then shakes his head. “My parents didn’t like him. He didn’t think too highly of them either. He said they were haters.”

Keith snorted. “That’s the same thing he said to me.”

“At least he was consistent.”

Keith almost laughed, but he caught himself. Lance couldn’t be nice and funny. He was supposed to be an asshole. But he wasn’t. Keith was the asshole.

Keith stared out the window, completely oblivious to the sniffles beside him. He didn’t realize it until he heard the familiar tune playing and turned to glance at the display, unable to place the name. _Poetic Justice._ Kendrick Lamar. Hmm, good to know. Then a tan hand darted to the volume knob, muting the song. Keith looked over at Lance. He was crying.

“I’m sorry. That’s just…” Lance wiped his nose, “Sam liked that song, too.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, I’ll just skip that.” He turned the volume back up and pressed the skip button. A song with a boppy beat came on. Keith looked at the display. Beyoncé. Keith’s face wrinkled again. He glanced back out the window, and was surprised when he heard Lance singing along to the song. Softly at first, then almost louder than the track. Keith leaned his head against the window, praying for it to stop.

Shortly after, the song ended and Lance laughed a little. “That always makes me feel better.”

Funny thing was it made Keith feel worse.

A shrill noise broke the silence. A ringtone. It had to be Lance’s, Keith’s phone was on silent. He glanced over at Lance, sure enough he was digging in his pockets. Wait… He wasn’t going to answer the phone while driving, was he? Keith’s eyes were big as saucers as Lance answered the call, putting the phone to his ear.

“Hello? Hey Pidge… What am I doing?” Lance looked over at Keith, then back at the road. “Driving… Mhm, I’m in almost to La Jolla.” Lance’s brow furrowed for a minute. “Pidge, how do you know where I am? Are you tracking me?”

Keith rolled his eyes. This ‘Pidge’ sounded a lot like Shiro.

“Well, so what if I’m in Temecula. I—

Lance stopped abruptly. “Yeah… he’s here… What’s he look like?” Lance glanced over at Keith. Keith stared back. “He’s _right_ here, Pidge… Well, if you have to know… He has a mullet, which I don’t understand, it’s not the eighties.”

Keith instinctively smoothed down the hair at the nape of his neck, glaring at Lance.

“Short, kinda mean looking? I don’t know, Pidge. I’m no good at this.” Lance chewed his lip. “Okay, I’ll call you back later. Bye.” He hung up the phone, sliding it in his pocket. Then to Keith he said, “Sorry, that was my friend.”

“Who wants to know what I look like?” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, um, sorry, she’s a little _loco_.” Lance cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Anyway, I had a question. Have you seen a ring in his room? A wedding band?”

“Wedding band?” Keith questioned.

“We bought engagement rings for each other. I gave him mine at Christmas, but he wanted to keep his on layaway until he could pay it off.”

“No.” Keith said. “If he had it, he probably hid it. Turn right here.”

They pulled into the cul-de-sac, Keith directed Lance to the Ducotes’ house, telling him to park behind Nima’s van.

Keith got out of the car, expecting Lance to do the same, but he didn’t. He was still in the car. Keith grumbled, turning around.

Lance cracked the window a little. “I… I’m not ready to meet his parents.”

“They’re in Hawaii.” Keith explained.

The quizzical look on Lance’s face mirrored the look his parents gave him when he told them. Lance reluctantly got out of the car, and Keith raced back up the walk. He got the key from under the mat, and unlocked the door.

It was cold inside. Keith hadn’t turned the air up when he left last time. Maybe that was why.

“Woah,” Lance spoke up from behind Keith, “this is nothing like what I pictured.” Temecula was a newer city. He probably hadn’t pictured a house this large.

Lance walked around, his eyes taking in everything, hands grazing over objects here and there. Keith couldn’t imagine how he felt now.

“Do...” Keith cleared his throat, “do you want to see his room?”

“Yeah. Hopefully I can find the ring so I won't have to work my butt of for the rest of my life.”

“Where do you work?”

“Hollister.”

Keith nodded, starting up the stairs. He heard Lance falling in behind him. He came to a stop in front of Sam’s door. He couldn’t go in again. “Here it is.” Keith gestured to the door before settling down on the ground next to the it.

Lance gripped the handle, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was grasping it. He took in a breath and went in.

Keith tried to imagine the room through Lance’s eyes. The Usain Bolt posters, and rainbow accents. His room was always so bright. The hospital bag on the bed. His tons of CD’s stacked on the desk.

“What are these trophies for?” Lance asked.

Keith looks in the room, shocked that Sam hadn’t told Lance he ran. “Track and field.  He was a runner. Last year, he won the sixteen-hundred and thirty-two hundred meters at State. He raced in relays too. He was practicing for the upcoming season when…”

He trailed off, wondering if Lance was thinking the same thing he was: How did someone in phenomenal shape just drop dead? Weren’t they supposed to get physicals?

“Huh,” Lance said after a while, “you weren’t kidding. They were shoved under the bed like garbage.”

The poems. Keith instantly felt guilt for what he’d done. “Actually… I did that… I’m…” Keith pauses for a moment. “If it makes you feel any better, he kept them on his nightstand.”

Lance stays quiet and for a moment, Keith thinks that he’s started crying again.

 “I put my heart and soul on these pages…” Lance mumbles.

Then, he slowly turns towards Keith and says, “Here’s how it makes me feel.” He rips out the rest of the pages and flings them across the room. He throws the notebook like a Frisbee and it clunks against the opposite wall. Next, he picks up a blue sweatshirt and shakes it out. _University of California, San Diego_ is on the back in big letters. “This is mine.” Lance hugs the garment to his chest, then throws it onto his shoulder. He digs through the mess on the nightstand and lifts a gold necklace with a cross off it. “This is mine too.” He digs a little longer, and suddenly swipes his arm across the desk, all of the junk flying off it.

The noise startles Keith, he glances in the room, right as Lance turns, his eyes are red. He’d been crying. “Where is the ring? I know you know where it is.” He tells Keith.

“I don’t.” Keith says. “I really don’t.”

Then he’s charging at Keith, which surprises Keith so much he rolls to the side to avoid be trampled, but Lance instead flies down the stairs two at a time, and Keith hears the door closing shortly afterward.

‘Asshole.’ Keith thinks. The least he could do was take him back to the school.

Keith locks up and turns toward the idling car. Lance has his head against the wheel. Was he waiting? Keith approaches the car, and gets his answer when Lance peels off in a puff of smoke.

* * *

 

That night when Keith gets home, he calls Jason.

“When’re you getting home?” Keith asks.

“Soon, I hope. I hate this fucking family, if that’s even what you want to call it. It’s like living in hell.”

Keith didn’t say anything. Jason was ever the drama king.

“Why?” Jason asks. “Do you miss me or somethin’?”

Keith keeps quiet. Jason laughs cruelly when Keith doesn’t respond.

“Do you know where the engagement ring that Lance gave Sam is?” Keith says finally.

“The _what_?” He sounds shocked.

“Sam didn’t tell you they were engaged?”

“No.” Keith can hear the hurt in his voice. It was rare. “Who told you that?”

“Lance.”

“Why the fuck are you talking to him?”

Keith wants to reply with a snarky comment, but holds his tongue. Now was not the time to get into an argument. “So you never saw it?”

“There is no fucking ring. Sam would’ve told me. He told me _everything_.” Jason goes quiet for a moment. Then he adds, “Engaged. Ha. That bitch is lying. Have you found the phone? The keys?”

“No.” Keith answers.

“You better. Justin’s threatening to put a lock on Sam’s door.” He ends the call.

Keith holds the phone for a beat longer, then tosses it on his dresser, falling back on his bed. Jason sounded genuinely shocked and hurt. It made Keith wonder if Sam had even told his parents about buying the ring. Probably not if he hadn’t even told Jason.

Keith’s phone buzzes. It’s a Twitter notification. He logs in quickly, finding a message in his inbox. It was from Lance.

_We can’t be friends. I’m sorry._

Keith checks his followers page. Lance’s account wasn’t there. Normally he wouldn’t care, but for some reason, it hurt. Bad. He’d never been unfollowed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jason returns along with his bs. pidge also roasts keith indirectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another slow chapter. next one should be up faster, hint hint.

Keith wakes to the sound and smell of bacon sizzling downstairs. His nose leads him to the kitchen, where his mom is fixing Sunday breakfast. Brad’s there, feeding Emily a bowl of watery baby cereal.

Brad phone goes off and he curses under his breath. He says to Keith, “Would you mind?” Meaning taking over the feeding. Keith decides to do it, since his mom is there in case he screws up. He slides into his dad’s chair as he walks off to answer the call.

Catherine sets a plate of eggs, hash browns, and bacon in front of him.

“Thanks.” Keith mumbles.

She plants a kiss on the top of Keith’s head. If he hadn’t felt it, he wouldn’t have believed it.

Brad hangs up and says, “I’m sorry. I have to go.” Then he hustles over to Catherine and pecks her on the cheek. He slows behind Keith and pats his shoulders. “How are you doing, son?”

‘Is there an answer to that?’ Keith thinks. Instead he replies, “Okay,” just as Brad exits the room.

His mom sits down next to him with her plate. “What do you plan on doing today?” She asks.

Sleeping. Zoning. “Nothing. Why?”

“I thought we’d all go to Santa Monica, to the pier.”

“Seriously?” Keith’s spirits lift. They haven’t gone there since he was little.

“Depending on how long your dad has to work.”

Keith slumps in his seat. He’ll be there for hours, and by then it’ll be too late to drive to the beach.

Emily clamps her lips together every time Keith lifts the spoon to her mouth. Like she’s afraid Keith’s going to poison her. Meanwhile, Keith’s own eggs and bacon are congealing. He gives up on Emily and digs into his breakfast, and Emily lets out a deafening scream.

“Keith,” Catherine says.

“She won’t let me feed her.”

Catherine scoots her chair down to take over, and suddenly Emily is all smiles. Keith feels a twinge of pain in his chest. It hurt that Emily hated him. What’d he ever do, except nearly kill her?

After eating and cleaning up, Keith goes to his room and digs some weight plates out of the closet. He lugs them over to the cluttered bench in the corner of the room. He’d gotten off his planned schedule ever since Sam’s passing. Weight-lifting became the least of his concerns. He decided to dust off the set since his parents had paid a pretty penny for the set and weights.

After he deposited the junk elsewhere, Keith picked up two twenty-pound weight plates and placed one on either side on the lifting bar. He’d just started to slip on his gloves when his mind wandered to Sam. Sam usually spotted him, and now he was… Keith slumped against the wall, closing his eyes. He couldn’t escape it. Every time he tried to do something to clear his mind, Sam some how weaseled his way back into Keith’s thoughts.

He snatched the gloves off, flinging them to the side. Now what was he supposed to do? Keith couldn’t bring himself to lift. He collapsed back on his bed, staring at the ceiling for a good twenty minutes.

Jason texts Keith around nine AM to tell him that they’re home. He asks if Keith can come over. Keith snorts and texts him that he’s going to Santa Monica.

He texts:

_Can I go?_

Keith texts back:

_Mom says she wants it to be just family_

A minute later he texts:

_Then can you drop me off at a friend’s before you leave?_

Keith sighs.

_Sure._

Brad’s still at the hospital, and Catherine’s in the living room, giving Emily a bottle. “I need to run out for a minute.” Keith says.

She glances up. “How long’s a minute?”

“Like, half an hour.”

“No more than an hour,” she says. “And if your dad gets home early, we’ll call you.”

Keith grabs the car keys and dashes to the garage. When he rings the doorbell at the Ducotes’, Jason answers. He looks more irritated that before they left, if that was even possible.

“How was your trip?” Keith asks.

“Amazing.” Jason deadpans. He has the gym bag he demanded Keith get for him thrown over his shoulder.

Nima passes by behind Jason, the same expression Jason has is on her face. What in the hell happened on that trip?

“Let's go.” Jason mutters.

Justin comes out of nowhere, catching Jason’s sleeve and turning him back around. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business.” Jason pulls away forcefully just as Justin’s phone rings. He disappears back into the house.

Ashley comes bustling through the door, phone to her ear. To Jason she says, “I have to go.” Keith steps aside as she hurries down the walk to her Jeep.

“And we all know why.” Jason says with a scowl.

Keith actually wonders why.

The garage opens and Justin backs out, heading in the opposite direction of Ashley.

“I don't know how they waited this long.” Jason shakes his head. Keith gives him a quizzical look. Jason answers, “They have an open marriage.” Keith’s eyes get huge, and Jason just gives him a sick smirk. “Mom and Dad have fuck buddies.”

Keith tries to make his face impassive so Jason won't get any ideas of continuing. Remarkably, it works. Jason heads towards the car. Keith follows, his mind frantically processing the newly received information. Justin and Ashley were… swingers? It seemed so far-fetched and falsified, but… Keith cleared the thought from his mind. It wasn’t his business. Even if he personally thought Justin and Ashley were a little too old to be doing that.

Keith was also shocked that Sam hadn’t told him about it, but he honestly could see that it was pretty embarrassing. Keith couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like explaining to someone his parents couldn’t keep certain parts of themselves under control. He’d die of embarrassment.

Jason gave him directions and pulled his cell out. Keith could see him texting ‘OMW’ to someone, then smiling to himself at whatever the person sent back. When he puts the phone down, Keith clears his throat and asks, “Can you look in Sam’s room for a ring?”

Jason’s voice hardens. “I told you. There is no ring.” He grips the gym bag tighter in his arms. For some reason, he was fond of it; the bag hadn’t left his sight the whole time they’d been riding.

“What’s in the bag?” Keith asks, curious. Clothes for an overnight stay somewhere?

“None of your fucking business.” Jason snaps, his lip curled in a scowl. He tosses the bag onto the backseat. Obviously, it wasn’t clothes. Probably something illegal.

Keith drops the conversation, resisting the urge to open the door and push Jason out into oncoming traffic.

 They drive for fifteen minutes, which turns into half an hour, then more. When they pass a sign for Pomona, Keith speaks up. “Where are we going exactly?”

“Right here.” Jason points to the entrance of a trailer park. “Stop.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and grabs the bag off the back seat. There’s a scruffy looking guy standing on the porch of a particularly dingy looking trailer. He looks at least thirty. Jason gives the guy a fist-bump and they both disappear in the trailer.

It takes Keith another hour to get home, it’s eleven by the time he pulls under the garage, too late to head to the beach. And his dad’s car is there too. Uh-oh.

“Where have you been?” Brad is on him as soon as he walks in the door. “I’ve been calling you.”

Keith just stares back. Shit. If Jason didn’t have him driving to fucking Los Angeles County… If he’d been thoughtful enough to call… Keith goes to fish his phone out of his pocket, but pulls out Sam’s instead.

“Whose cell is that?” Brad asks.

Keith slides the phone back in his pocket, avoiding his dad’s eyes and question. He finds his own phone. He has a voicemail. Quickly, he formulates a lie. “My phone’s dead. I forgot to charge it.”

“You didn’t answer my first question.” He holds out his hand for the phone.

There was no way he’d give him Sam’s phone. “It’s… Shiro’s. He left it here Friday after he left. I picked it up to give it back to him.” Keith just couldn’t stop lying. He had to tell one to cover his twenty others.

Keith’s phone vibrates at that moment. Fuck. He can’t place the number. It’s a San Diego area code. Keith braves a glance up, shrugging at his Dad like, ‘Whoa, my phone magically charged.’

“Hello?” Keith answers, heading for the stairs.

“It’s me.” Lance says. “You can hang up if you want to.”

Keith’s heart races. “Hey Shiro. Yeah, I have your cell.”

“Shiro? I’m Lance.”

Keith keeps on. “I can bring it over later. We’re going to Santa Monica.” Keith looks back at his dad for confirmation. He shakes his head ‘no’. “Or I could do it after I’m ungrounded for life.”

“What? I don’t… I’m confused.”

“Dad says hi.” Keith starts up the stairs. Lance must think he’s stone-cold crazy. “She did? Cool.”

Lance hangs up. Keith wants to call back, partly to explain he isn’t a lunatic and to find out why he called. He starts to dial back, but catches himself. They shouldn’t be in contact. Sam didn't want them to know about each other, and Lance didn't want to talk to Keith either, right? That's what the message said. Then why did he call? Most importantly, why did he unfollow Keith and then call? Keith didn't get Lance at all.

Keith sends a quick text. _Sorry about that. My dad was standing right there._

Lance doesn’t respond. Keith waits five, ten minutes. Nothing. Eventually, his dad comes upstairs. “I'm going to take a nap. Your mom’s asleep downstairs with Emily. If she wakes, can you give her a bottle?”

If she’ll take it from him which she won't.

“I need to go to Shiro’s to drop off his phone.” Keith says.

Brad crosses his arms. “Why can't he come here?”

“He’s studying for a big test.”

“I know Shiro can multitask.”

Keith frowned to himself. How did he know that?  “He’s stressed because it's worth half of his grade in History.”

“Mhm.” Brad turns to leave, but stops just short of the door. “I'm sorry we didn't go to Santa Monica.”

“It's fine. I have a ton of homework.” Keith reaches for his bag under his desk.

“If you need a break, you can go to Shiro’s. Only for a while.”

“Wait.” Keith catches Brad before he leaves. “Don't athletes have to get physicals before they can participate in sports?”

He gives Keith a blank look before he understands what Keith was asking. “They do but ventricular fibrillation, the main cause of cardiac arrest, may not be detected in sports physicals. I think rules are changing to be more thorough. Don't quote me on that, though.”

Before the door closes he adds, “Sometimes it's just out of our hands.”

* * *

 

Lance finally found a moment of peace later that night after having spent the whole day out at Mass. It was well after five, almost time for dinner, and Lance knew he should’ve been down stairs helping, but he needed a moment to himself, to unload the guilt he’d been carrying all day.

He flopped down on his bed, staring at the Beyoncé poster above his bed, his source of strength. Then he pulled his phone out, and dialed Hunk.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Lance said. “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.” Hunk sounded a little pissed, which was odd. It took a lot to upset him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Pidge told me you met up with Keith again.”

Lance face-palmed.

“Is it true?”

“Yeah.”

In the background of the call, Lance could hear a shrill voice shout, “Told you so!”

He frowned. “Is that Pidge? Put her on the phone. We need to have a talk about privacy!”

The line went quiet as the phone was traded off.

“What?” Pidge said.

“So, you’re tracking me now? _And_ telling my business?”

Pidge scoffed. “Your business _is_ my business. And of course, I’m tracking you. What do you take me for? An amateur?”

“Actually, a semi-stalker.”

“Please, my capabilities are far greater than that of a stalker.” She actually sounded smug.

“You still haven’t explained yourself.”

“Hunk kept bugging me, so I had to tell him.” Lance could hear Hunk protesting in the background. “And as for tracking… I downloaded my own software onto your phone when you weren’t looking a while back.”

“What! Okay, I feel _so_ violated.” Lance wiped a fake tear from his eye. “What about you, Hunk?”

“Eh,” Hunk spoke up, “I’m more or less the same.”

“Lance,” Pidge said, her voice suddenly serious, “there’s only four people in this world that I care about, and you happen to be one of them. I just… I want to make sure you’re safe. And if that means tracking you every waking minute, I’m gonna do it.”

“Aww, Pidge!” Lance heard Hunk gushing in the background, and his own heart softened a little. It made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“Don’t you go gettin’ soft on me, that’s Hunk’s thing.” Lance smiled.

“Well, I had to go there for you to understand, you moron.”

“And, she’s back.”

“Wait?” Hunk interjected. “Who are the four people? Me, Lance… Your mom? Who else? Pidge, are you seeing somebody?” Lance heard an audible _thump_ and then Hunk wincing. “I’m sorry, I take it back!”

Lance laughed as the two bickered, Pidge saying she would ‘Never as long as she lived be in a relationship with anything other than technology.’, and Hunk trying to refute her statement with all reasons why she should reconsider. It made Lance a little blue. He remembered all the great times he had with Sam, and now… He’d never have that again.

“So,” Pidge said suddenly, “why did you meet back up with him?”

Lance really didn’t know. He’d been driving around Friday, still confused about what to do now that he knew Sam had been cheating. Somehow he ended up in Escondido and decided to go ahead and drive the whole way there. And then he was back with that _culo_ , Keith, except he wasn’t that much of an ass that time. He was actually civil.

“I dunno. I guess I wanted to know more.” Lance left out the part about his call to Keith earlier today. He really wasn’t sure why he called, he hadn’t expected Keith to answer. And when he did, he called him Shiro? It was more than weird.

“I can understand that. Wher—

Suddenly, Lance’s door flew open. Zoe, his little sister, was in the doorway. Her thick, dark hair hung in short curls, and a tiny silver tiara sat atop her head. She wore a knee-length cotton-candy pink dress with poofy sleeves and black Mary-Janes. She was adorable, but looks certainly were deceiving. Lance’d learned that if anything from Sam. Zoe was a _diabla pequeña_. “Mamá says—

“Nope, no.” Lance sat the phone down. “What’d I tell you about knocking before entering?” Zoe stared back at him. “Knock, wait for me to respond, and _then_ come in. Now, go back and do it again.”

Lance could hear the little girl’s grumbling as she closed the door. This was always happening. Lance was constantly telling her that same spiel and she kept forgetting it just to test him. Why were little sisters so hard to cooperate with? Zoe practically pounded on the door.

“Who is it?” Lance asked as pleasantly as possible.

“You know who it is.”

“No, I don’t? Is it Mia?”

The door flew open. “No!” Her face was turning redder by the minute. Lance snickered. The easiest way to upset Zoe was to call her ‘Mia’, her twin sister who acted nothing like her. Zoe liked pink and all things girly. Mia hated pink and was down for anything dirty. Lance could easily tell the two apart, even without their different personalities. He just did it to spite her. “I’m Zoe!”

“There. That’s how you do it.” Lance smiled.

Zoe, all of six-years-old, rolled her eyes. “Mamá says if you don’t come down to help right now, you’re going to be pulling her shoe outta your butt.”

“Mhm.” Lance murmured. “Tell her I’ll be down in a minute.”

Zoe shrugged. “Okay. It’s your funeral.” She strolled (more like strutted) off.

Lance’s demeanor soured at the mention of _funeral_. He never got to see Sam’s and was still pretty torn up about it. He brought the phone back to his ear.

“Lance? Are you there?” Pidge asked.

“Yeah. That was just Zoe.” He shook his head. “What were you saying?”

“I just wanted to know where he took you?”

“Oh. He took me to Sam’s… I saw his room.” Lance remembered the brightly colored room littered with trophies.

“Really?

“Mhm. Sam ran track. He never told me that…”

“Lance…”

Lance felt a lump form in his throat. “It’s like there wasn’t any trace of me there, y’know. My poems, the ones I wrote for him… they were crumpled up under the bed.”

“Sam did that?” Hunk had the phone now.

“No. Turns out Keith did it. He admitted it to me.”

“What? That jerk! Wha—

There was a lapse in speech before Pidge’s voice filled Lance’s ears. “I hope you told that dick off.”

“Nah, he was sincere… I think.”

“Ya _think_?” Pidge huffed. “You’ve gotta get better at reading people’s emotions.”

“I know! I know. I mean,” Lance bit into a nubby nail, “it’s hard with him. He doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve.”

“Like you?”

Lance snorted. It was true.

“Whatever…” Pidge paused. “You’ll leave him alone, right?”

Silence.

“Right! Lance? Don’t tell me you’re not still gonna talk to this dude.”

“I already have actually…”

“Lance!” Pidge screeched.

“I know! Jeez, stop screaming.” Lance sighed. “He was really weird when I called… He sent a text, but I didn’t respond.”

“Don’t.” Pidge told him. “Delete his number and never talk to that douche again.”

“Pidge,” Lance closed his eyes, rolling onto his back, “it’s not that simple…”

“Sure it is. Tell him, Hunk.”

Before Hunk could even get on the line, Lance’s door was flung back open, but this time it wasn’t Zoe. It was his mom. The short, plump woman normally carried herself in a manner equivalent to that of Mrs. Claus, a jolly and cheerful atmosphere always surrounded her. But the aura she was giving off now was one that screamed ‘Danger! Danger!’ to Lance. To put it simply, she didn’t look the least bit pleased.

“So, you’re on the phone, huh?”

“Shoot.” Lance murmured into the phone. “I'll call you back.” He hung up, shoving the phone under his pillow just as Linda reached the bed and proceeded to lay into him. He hardly realized it though, his mind was far to occupied with how he was going to get his life back on track.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith goes to lance's job and gets dragged by allura all in the same day. the next day keith also has a mild breakdown after justin tells him some bs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kinda on the long side. ;))

Keith’d originally been planning to meet Allura at one of Shiro’s games in San Diego, but at the sight of a sign mentioning the exit for the 5, Keith quickly changed plans. He wasn’t really sure why, but he didn’t fight it. Maybe, deep down he wanted to. Keith quickly suppressed that thought, and stepped on the gas.

He wasn’t certain how many malls were in La Jolla, it was just a small beach town after all. His thought was quickly disproven by the several malls Keith passed driving through the town. He eventually had to go on GPS for directions to the remaining malls. Keith was just about to give up when he saw it: the blue Camry. Keith swerved off the road, parking the car in all of ten seconds.

It was a huge outdoor mall, four floors of commercial enterprise and even an ice-skating rink. And it was packed. Keith suddenly felt like he was going to hurl. Anxiety was a bitch.

He walked into the plaza, finding the directory, and when the people crowding it dispersed, he sprinted up to it. Hollister was on the second floor. He located the elevator, and quickly decided against it. Too many people crowded into a small space. Keith found the escalator and dashed to it.

The second floor wasn’t as crowded; Keith was able to move quicker. Keith smelled the store before he saw it. He cringed, resisting the urge to cover his nose. The scent was awful, truly one of a kind. It was the same scent that was in Lance’s car. No wonder he reeked of it.

Keith stopped just before the storefront. What would he say? ‘Did you have to tell me something?’ Obviously Lance did, or else he wouldn't have called. God, this was so dumb. Keith tried to look in, but the store was incredibly dark inside. He couldn't see anything. Lance could be anywhere.

Why was he doing this? Shouldn't he leave this dude alone, it made no sense to keep in contact with him. They should just part ways, right? Then why did Keith feel a need to talk to Lance?

Keith finally got the courage to enter, his palms sweaty and clammy. Lance is near the front, just gazing off into the distance. His eyes widen when they land on Keith.

“What are you doing here?” He actually looks confused.

“Um, this is my favorite store, can’t you tell?” Keith gestures to his sweatshirt and tattered jeans.

“Really?” Lance’s upper lip curls up, somewhat disgustedly.

“Yeah, I mean what’s not to love? _Authentic_ worn rugs, potted palm trees, the dark ass environment, and the _music_ ,” Keith pointed to the corresponding objects, then up to the speaker above which was blasting terrible pop that could hardly be called music. “ _Amazing_.”

That coaxes a smile out of Lance. He has a great smile, full and bright, it made Keith’s heart race.

“Lance, there’s inventory to do when you’re done talking to your friend.” A voice calls from the cash register.

Lance rolls his eyes, and then under his breath, mumbles, “My supervisor.”

“I’m not a friend. I’m a customer.” Keith tells the guy.

“Oh. Excuse me.” He disappears into the back with an armful of Polos.

“I was thinking,” Keith says after a moment, “since this is my favorite store and all, you could hook me up with some new gear.” He isn’t really sure where this cheekiness is coming from, but he’s glad this unknown quality suddenly developed.

“You’re crazy.” Lance considers for a moment, then says, “I have just the thing in mind.”

Keith swears Lance’s eyes twinkle (or maybe he’s hallucinating?) as he digs through a center rack of clothes, pulling out a garment, then darts across the room to the denim, pulling out a light-wash pair, and jerks his head towards the back. Did he want Keith to follow?

Keith hesitated for a tick, then started after Lance. Was he really about to try on clothes from a store he never visited before? Lance lead him to a room, unlocking the door with a key around his wrist, then holding it open for Keith while handing him the clothes.

“I just guesstimated the sizes.” Lance told Keith.

Keith looked at the tags. The shirt was a small, which was good. The jeans were a 29, two sizes too small. Keith’s waist was actually twenty-nine inches, but his hips were wide, his thighs thicker, so he usually had to go up a few sizes, which resulted in pants always being too big for his waist. Belts were his best friend.

“Uh, the pants are too small.” Keith gives him jeans back.

“Oh.” Lance turns crimson, Keith can see him glancing down at his lower body briefly before walking off. He comes back with two pairs of the same pant. “I got two, I wasn't sure.”

“Okay.” He takes them and goes into the room.

Keith undresses, the cold air of the room nipping his chest and legs. He pulls on the 30. It was tight going around his calf, so he stopped early and reached for the 31. This pair slipped on a little easier. When he got them up, he rolled the waistband down, a trick he’d learned to help cinch the pants.

He pulled on the shirt, which was a grey sweater that looked a little too itchy for Keith’s taste. Except it wasn’t when he pulled it on. He turned to the mirror. He looked… okay. If he cuffed the jeans and put on some sneakers instead of boots… it might actually work.

 Separate, the sweater and jeans looked terrible, but together, they actually looked decent. It was something Keith never would have tried.

“Finished?” Lance knocked.

“Yeah.” Keith opened the door, and let Lance in.

“Whoa, you look great.”

“Really?” Keith gives himself another onceover.

“Yeah.” He looks at Keith again, and starts to say something, but his face sobers and he glances away. “Can I ask how you and Sam met?” He seats himself on the floor.

“Um, at the gym over winter break. His friend got sick.”

“Ice-skating with him the week before. I fell and hurt my knee.”

“Lance.” The supervisor calls.

“Coming.” He pushes to his feet, meeting Keith’s eyes for a while.

After he’s gone, Keith puts on his clothes and comes to the conclusion that Lance is indeed attractive.

He leaves the room, clothes in hand. Lance is busy with inventory or something. The supervisor is at the register and Keith sets the clothes down on the counter. “I’ll take this.” He pulls out his wallet which has the Visa in it that he’s only supposed to use for emergencies.

As he’s leaving, Keith stops behind Lance. He’s punching a number into a calculator.

“You know, I've actually never been in this store, right?” Keith asked.

“Yeah, I figured.” Lance smiled. “You look way too edgy.” He glanced down at the bag in Keith’s hand. “Wait, you actually bought it?”

“Yep. Guess I'm not so edgy now.”

Lance’s laugh repeated in his head like a melody on the ride home.

Keith’s persuasive essay for English is due tomorrow, and all he has written is the title. Before Sam, he never put off his assignments and such, but Sam wasn’t as quick to start assignments as Keith was; he always said Keith was OCD.

He sets his laptop aside, lying back on his bed to think. Concentrate.

Lance might not be home from work yet; it was only seven thirty. Keith decided if Lance didn’t call by ten, he’d call and say… What? ‘Do you have any more questions? Ask me _anything_.’

His phone rings, breaking the silence in the room. It’s Allura. He barely even gets ‘Hello’ in before she’s on him.

“Where were you? You missed the game!”

Shit. Keith completely forgot about the reason why he’d even gotten to see Lance. Shiro’s game. “I, er, got lost.”

“Keith, that’s the stupidest lie I’ve ever heard.” Her voice is like nails. “Do you know I waited for you for thirty minutes?”

Keith swallows.

“Thirty minutes! I missed the beginning of the game waiting for you. I think Shiro saw me walk in late.”

“Sorry.” Keith mumbles.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it in this case. He was looking for you too, Keith. He looked so disappointed.” Her voice took a dismal tone at the end, it made Keith’s heart sink.

It was just like listening to his parents constant nagging and griping and complaining. It drove him absolutely fucking insane. There was no way he was taking this shit from someone he could easily curse out, even if she was his friend.

“I said I was sorry. What more do you want? I tried and I couldn’t make it. It’s not my job to be at all of his fucking games.”

“But you haven’t even gone to one. You promised to come. You promised _him_.”

Keith went silent. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t going to admit he was wrong, he wasn’t.

“I hope wherever else you went was as important as this was to Shiro.” She hangs up.

Keith definitely can’t bring himself to write now, all that’s on his mind is Shiro. And guilt is eating away at his soul. Why can’t he do anything right?

He dials Lance’s number, and it goes to voicemail. Probably what’s best. What in the fuck would he tell Lance?

It’s eight twenty now, and Keith still doesn’t have anything written, so he keys in a paragraph or two about avoiding the pain and messiness of real life. It sounds entirely stupid. Coran definitely was going to give him a big, fat F.

Keith gets up to stretch, noticing the glow of Sam’s phone on his desk. He has two texts, both from today. From Jason.

_If u have this cell, you’re a thief and I’m reporting u to the cops._

The next one reads:

_If u want to keep the cops out of it, put the cell in an envelope and send it to this address._

He includes and address in Pomona, probably where Keith took him the other day.

He’s not getting the phone; Keith has already decided that. Just as he’s setting it back on the desk, his own phone chimes. A text from Lance.

_Sorry I missed your call. My mom always asks who I’m talking to. There’s nowhere in this house I can have a private conversation._

Keith isn’t even sure why he called now. He texts:

_I hear you. Not literally_

Lance texts:

_Ha. I can’t believe you bought that outfit._

_You picked it out. I’m wearing it now and telling everyone I shop at Hollister instead of Hot Topic._

_LOL_

_Do you like working there?_

_Better than Chuck E. Cheese’s_

_Free pizza there._

_Salmonella too!_

There’s a lull in the conversation, and Keith is on edge, maybe they shouldn’t have done this. Then Lance texts:

_I know you’re not supposed to speak poorly of the dead, but what Sam did was wrong and unforgivable. Except I’m Catholic, so I have to forgive him. I don’t want to hate him. I did at first. Every lie I found out about was like a stab in the back. But I don’t want to let hatred control my life._

Keith reads it over and over, letting it sink into his brain. It actually makes sense. It’s exactly how he’s feeling encapsulated in words.

Lance texts:

_I have to go_

_Wait._

A pause. Keith curses. He doesn’t know why he sent that. Lance has to get on with his life and so should he.

_What?_

Keith texts:

_Nothing. Never mind._

* * *

 

When Keith hands in his persuasive essay, Coran scans the mostly empty page and then turns it over to see if he’d continued on the back. He gives Keith a blank look before he purses his lips tightly, so much that they’re hidden behind his mustache. Keith is almost tempted to say ‘Quality over quantity, right?’ But instead he looks down and walks away. Teaching could really bring out the serial killer in some people.

On his way home, Keith passes Sam’s street and sees his motorcycle parked at the end of the cul-de-sac with a _For sale_ sign next to it.

It reads:

_Like new. $12,500_

Dear God.

Justin’s just pulling into the driveway as Keith starts to walk away. He waves and gets out the car. “Hi Keith,” he says, “Come in for some coffee. It’ll have to be quick though.”

Keith trails him inside, wondering how to ask if he’s regrouped. His hair is damp and pulled back into a short ponytail.

The house looks the same, table piled high with papers and magazines, clothes flung all over the place. It reeks of incense, like Nima got a bulk deal.

Justin slips his sneakers off and pads bare footed over to the coffeemaker. Keith sits in a random seat at the table. They don’t converse. Usually Justin’s so chatty, asking Keith about his life and saying just about anything. It’s not like Keith really minds, he appreciates the silence.

Justin sets a cup of coffee in front of Keith and says, “Have you seen Sam’s cell phone?”

Blood rushes to Keith’s cheeks.

Justin continues. “I’m betting Jason stole it, even though he swears he didn’t. He’s such a little liar and thief. He was always taking money from Ashley’s purse, and I know he’s been rifling through Sam’s room. Did Sam tell you about the time he downloaded a lot of porn onto my computer? It got some virus and I had to take it to the geeks to fix. You should’ve seen how they looked at me.”

Keith thinks for a tick. Sam did tell him about it. He thought it was hysterical. Jason, not so much. It was a dare for Jason to do it. Even if he didn’t want to participate in Sam’s pranks, or was afraid of the consequences, he would never say no to Sam.

 Justin takes his coffee and moves behind Keith toward the hall.

“Justin.” Keith twists in his seat. “Can I ask you a question?”

He stops and checks his watch. “I have a hair appointment in twenty minutes.”

“Um… did you know Sam was seeing another guy?”

Justin laughs. “Only one?”

Keith doesn’t laugh. Justin lifts his cup to his mouth, sips, and then licks his upper lip. “I told Sam he was too young to be serious about just one person. At his age, I had girls lined up. Guys, too.” He winks.

Keith just looks at him. Did he know about Lance?

He says, “It’s not like you were engaged, Keith.”

Keith’s heart heaves and a whirring sound fills his ears. He manages to croak out the question, “Would you mind if I went in Sam’s room one more time? He… he borrowed this book, and I need to get it back to the library.”

Justin sighs, like it’s a huge imposition. “Just for a minute.” He digs in his pocket for a set of keys. Keith follows him down the hall and sees that a deadbolt has been installed on Sam’s door.

“I saw the For Sale sign on the motorcycle. Are you not keeping it for Jason because of the porn thing?”

Justin whirls around. “That bike would never have gone to Jason. If he told you that, he was lying.” A cell phone rings in Justin’s pocket and he says, “I’ll be back to lock up when you’re done.” He answers the cell, “Hi, baby,” as he enters his room and shuts the door.

Keith just stares after Justin, thinking, Who is this person? He’s changed. Or maybe Keith’s never seen through his outer layer before.

Keith rummages around in Sam’s drawers again, feeling for a ring box. It could be anywhere on his floor or desk, or behind books. If the ring had been on his finger while he was running, it’d be in the hospital bag. Keith feels around in there and comes up empty.

Jason was right. There is no ring. Lance was lying, and now it’s possible that he was lying about a lot of things. All of it. That he and Jason and Sam were in on it together and the joke was on Keith. Keith sits on Sam’s bed, feeling disoriented. Dizzy. Automatically, to stop the motion, his fingers slide under his mattress.

What’s this?

Keith stands and lifts the mattress a few inches. Money. A lot of it. Mostly twenties. If he had to estimate, he’s say there was four or five hundred dollars there.

It makes him mad because he was the one who always had to pay whenever they went out. Even when Jason was with them, Sam said he was broke, and asked if Keith would mind charging it on his Visa. Of course, he didn’t mind. He loved him.

Justin’s door opens and closes. He calls, “Keith, are you almost through? I need to go.”

Keith leaves the money, even though he feels the need to stuff as much of it as he can in his pockets for reimbursement.

Beside the bookcase he sees a couple of library books, so he grabs them, inadvertently knocking over a trophy. A mitten falls out of the trophy and he bends to pick it up. It’s heavy, like something’s inside the mitten.

Keith empties the contents into the palm of his hand and sees that it’s a ring box. Lance wasn’t lying. Boiling anger at Sam simmers inside of Keith. Is that what they were to him? Trophies to add to his collection?

Justin says from the threshold, “Did you find the book?”

Ever so slowly, Keith turns, sliding the ring box into his pocket. “Two, actually. They’re both overdue, but I’ll pay the fines.”

He doesn’t even say thanks, or offer to pay Keith back.

As he’s locking the door behind him, Justin picks up where he left off. “I told Sam he should have fun. See a lot of people. At his age, there was absolutely no reason to be tied down. Not just to you—”

Keith is nauseated. He can’t even stand to look Justin in the eye. Never has he felt such revulsion for a person. 

Justin pats him on the shoulder. “If Jason tells you he has Sam’s phone, you let me know.”

“Don’t touch me.” Keith shrugs his arm away from Justin and covers his face with his hands. He felt like he was going to fucking puke.

Justin flinches and pulls his hand away. “Keith? What’s wrong?”

Keith has the sudden urge to tell Justin exactly what’s on his mind, that the things he told Sam were absolutely insane. But out of respect for Sam, he decides to keep his mouth shut. Which is stupid because it seems that Sam didn’t have too much respect for him or Lance.

“N-nothing. I have to go.” Keith rushes to the door before Justin has the time to react.

He stumbles down the sidewalk; his head is practically spinning. Near the motorcycle, Keith’s stomach gives out and he hurls. He wants to scream. He wants God or someone to fill him in on what’s right or wrong in the world, what’s honorable and decent, because the way Justin and Ashley live their lives, the morals they taught their children, it’s no wonder Sam was the way he was. Even if he didn’t know them that long, how naïve could he be? How stupid? Suddenly Keith’s parents look like demigods next to Sam’s.

Keith stands and wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. He starts to walk away, thinking about his relationship with Sam. Did Sam really love him, or was it all just a sham?

* * *

 

As soon as Keith gets home, he texts Lance.

_I found your ring. Maybe you can return it for a refund_

He doesn’t text back. Keith curls into a ball on his bed and covers his head with a pillow. He wishes he could stop thinking, stop feeling, just… stop. His phone rings and it’s a text from Lance.

_Thanks! Sorry I didn’t get your message earlier, I had a swim meet.  And yeah, I do want it back._

Keith texts:

_Do you want me to mail it?_

_NO!!! I didn’t tell my mom and dad we were engaged_

Engaged. Keith still couldn’t believe it was real, even with the ring as proof. Did Lance believe it was? Why would Sam hook up with Keith if he loved Lance enough to marry him?

Lance texts:

_He probably planned to pawn the ring and keep the money_

‘To add to the fortune under his mattress,’ Keith thinks.

Lance texts:

_You okay?_

Who? Keith? No. He was hurt. His heart ached. He wanted to hate Sam for duping him and Lance, but he couldn’t seem to get there. His love for Sam was real, and still is.

Lance texts again:

_Keith, you there?_

Keith texts back:

_Yeah, just working through some things_

He texts:

_Me too. I can’t stop crying. One minute I’m sad, then mad, then confused and empty. I could go on_

He doesn’t have to.

He texts again:

_We won our meet, yay, so I’ll be swimming on Wed in Murrieta. Is Temecula swimming?_

Keith texts:

_Doubtful. We suck at everything but baseball and track_

Lance texts:

_Do you want to meet after the meet? Maybe talking it out will help_

Keith’s heart does a little flutter, even though he knows that Lance is probably just interested in getting his ring back.

_Sure_

He texts:

_Since you don’t have a car, why don’t I just come to your house to pick you up? Unless you’re not out to your parents and they might ask questions_

Keith texts:

_No, they know I’m gay. That’s not a problem. What time?_

_It’s a late meet so it won’t end until 8 or 8:30_

Breaking curfew would be a problem. If only Keith’s parents were more lenient like… forget that.

Keith texts:

_See you then_

* * *

 

When Keith gets downstairs, Catherine and Brad are both up. The two of them are dressed for work and are hustling to eat breakfast and feed Emily before she goes off to daycare.

“Can I help?” Keith asks.

They both gawk at him.

Brad says, “You can feed Emily so I can finish my breakfast.”

Keith doesn't quite get the hang of scooping food into Emily’s mouth without losing most of it down her front, but eventually they get a rhythm going where she opens, Keith shovels, and then waits for her to swallow before offering the next bite. The whole time she whimpers, like she can barely endure the torture of Keith feeding her.

“Can I ask a question?” Keith says to his parents.

“Uh-oh,” Catherine says, “I knew there was a catch. How much?”

Keith frowns. “I want to go out tomorrow night, kinda late. After a swim meet in Murrieta.”

Catherine raises an eyebrow. “Temecula placed?”

“That’d be a miracle,” Keith says. “The meet won’t end until around eight, so I might miss my curfew. Unless it’s extended? Please?”

Catherine removes her waffle from the toaster. “Who are you going with if Temecula isn’t swimming?”

Well, it can’t be Shiro, can it? “Someone,” Keith says.

“Clears that up,” Catherine says. “Do we know her?”

Keith looks at Catherine. The pause in their feeding rhythm makes Emily spit at him. Keith silently wonders if it would be wrong to let a baby starve.

Catherine corrects herself. “Him, I mean.”

Keith shakes his head.

Catherine eyes Brad across the table, and he says, “We’d like to meet him.”

“We’re not dating,” Keith tells them. “He’s just a friend.”

Brad takes his plate to the dishwasher. “We still like to know your friends.”

‘A fast ‘hi and bye,’ Keith thinks. “So can I go?”

They don’t answer. They’re going to say no. Why did he decide to go with the noble route? He could’ve just snuck out and they never would’ve known.

Brad says, “It’s a school night.”

“I know that.” Keith replies.

Emily’s getting squirmy and her cheeks are puffed up, like she’s ready to explode.

Catherine asks, “Where are you going?”

Keith doesn’t respond. He opens his mouth to tell them to just forget it, but Emily lets out a shriek. She smashes her tray, propelling her dish into the air, where it flips and lands right on top of Keith’s head. A beat passes, and then Brad and Catherine burst into laughter.

‘Oh yeah.’ Keith thinks. ‘It’s so hilarious.’

Now he’ll have to shower again and change clothes. Keith scoots his chair back and stands.

“Just for that,” Catherine says, “I think we should let him go.”

What? Keith looks over at Brad. He’s holding his stomach at the sink, gasping for air while he laughs.

Catherine says to Keith, “The bell tolls at midnight. After that you turn into a pumpkin.”

Keith almost says “pauper,” but now’s not the time to quibble about fairy tales.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith and lance have their first unofficial and uneventful first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all this chapter was short bc voltron season 2 has destroyed my life. sorry for the slow update. :/

Keith feels giddy. Alive. He couldn't wait for eight o’clock. It was weird. Lance is—was— his rival. Keith should despise him. But all he feels is excited to see him again. It makes Keith wonder if his parents were right about him needing to get professional help.

After dinner, Keith lays out every conceivable outfit he owns, which is basically a bunch of tees and shorts with a few pairs of jeans thrown in and the occasional jacket or coat. He looks frumpy in jeans and a hoodie, nerdy in the button-down cardigan his mom got him for Christmas. He tries on the jeans and sweater from yesterday, and tears them off too. He’d look more than a little infatuated if he showed up in the clothes that Lance’d just picked out a few days before.

Keith shimmies into a pair of skinny jeans and a plain black tee. The jeans are tighter than they used to be. Keith silently hoped that he wasn’t gaining weight. Maybe it was time to get back on his workout regimen.

Keith falls back on his bed, and stares at the ceiling. He shouldn’t be getting so worked up over something as simple as a date. Except it’s his first time out since Sam… That took the wind out of him.

His first date after Sam. It was barely a month later and he was already dating. Could this even be considered a date? They were just meeting to give the ring back. Nothing more.

After he calms down a bit, Keith goes to the bathroom and tries to tame his nest of hair. His phone rings.

“Meet’s over. What’s your address?” Lance asks.

Keith tells him, trying to keep his voice level. He fails terribly.

“I’ll be there in a few.”

They hang up, and Keith fumbles around with his hair for a bit longer before he leaves the bathroom. His arms feel bare and unprotected so he goes back to his room to grab a jacket. He starts to pick up his signature red midriff one, but notices the thicker blue jacket beside it. Sam’s varsity jacket.

Keith is hesitant to touch it, like someone, maybe Lance is watching him. He shrugs off the feeling, and picks up the jacket. It’s covered in patches all from Sam’s milestones in track. Keith turns the jacket over. _Ducote_ is on the back in big, bold letters. Keith brings it to his nose. It still smells like him. Faintly.

It would be dumb to wear Sam’s jacket out with Lance, but Keith can't help himself; he’s pulling the coat on before he knows it. It's way too big for him, Sam was taller than him, meaning the sleeves and torso were to long for Keith’s small frame. Oh well.

Keith speeds downstairs, hoping that his parents have forgotten about meeting Lance, but his mom is still downstairs. Shit.

Keith watches from the kitchen, and when he notices headlights flashing across the wall, he goes for the door, not before his mom follows though. Thankfully, she stops in the doorway.

Lance rolls the window down, and Keith hands him the ring box. Lance tosses it into his glove compartment.

“Don’t you want to make sure it’s in there?” Keith asks.

“I never want to see that fricking ring again. Anyway, I trust you.”

Keith feels a pang of guilt stab him where it hurts. Lance had no reason to trust him—especially if he knew about the texts.

Lance says, “Do you wanna go somewhere to eat? I saw a Chipotle on the way here, and I'm staving.”

Keith’s stomach grumbles as if on cue. He hadn't really eaten dinner.

“Keith?” Catherine calls from the doorway.

Keith frowns. “Would you mind meeting my mom?”

Lance visibly sucks in a breath, and for a moment Keith thinks Lance is about to say no, but the tall boy clambers out of the car, and starts up the walk. Keith stands there, shocked. It's only when Lance calls his name that he comes from his daze, and meets him halfway up the walk.

“ThisisLance.” Keith rushes. “Lance, mom.”

“Hi.” Lance extends his hand to shake.

Catherine accepts it, though she eyes Lance almost suspiciously. “How do you know Keith?”

Oh, dear God.

Lance gives Keith a look that screams, ‘Save me!’ and Keith quickly swoops in, with a lie of course. “It's a long story. We're going out. Be back by twelve.”

Catherine looks practically miffed, but brightens up when Lance politely says, “Nice to meet you.” She'd literally fall down at the feet of a well-mannered teen.

 Keith can sense there's more she wants to ask, so he whisks Lance off the porch before she can.

They pull off.

A hush falls over them. It hardly seems uncomfortable. It feels… normal. The music is low, Keith can't hear it, but the display says it’s some Beyoncé song. Suddenly, he's glad he can't hear it.

“That yours?” Lance’s eyes leave the road for a second, trailing to Sam’s varsity jacket. Shit.

“N-no.”  Keith swallows, crossing his arms instinctively. Why did he decide to wear this stupid thing?

Keith turns to stare out the window as they stop at a light. Lance turns too, studying the patches on the jacket. Keith closed his eyes. Meltdown in t-minus three, two, one.

“Track? Is that Sam’s?”

“...Yeah.”

“He gave it to you?” Lance sounds angry… and hurt. Keith can't bring himself to answer.

The silence that followed was nerve-wrecking to say the least. Keith contemplated getting out of the car and walking home, but he'd end up right back where he was before: alone and confused. Was that any better than the situation he was in now? Stuck in a car with someone who probably hated his guts?

That wasn't entirely true, Keith knew that. If Lance hated his guts he probably wouldn't have invited him out for dinner. Or maybe he was lying about his intentions. Keith didn't blame Lance if he didn't want to talk to him anymore. God, why did he have to ruin everything?

Keith’s sighing at his own stupidity when sniffling interrupts his brooding. Keith turns slowly from the window; Lance’s forehead is against the wheel. Tears are visibly streaming down his cheeks.

The ever-present guilt on Keith’s conscience returns, stronger than ever this time. He couldn't go one minute without hurting someone. It was like that was all he could do. Hurt people. Maybe he should take up a career. _Professional heartbreaker._ That was Sam, honestly.

Lance sniffles, wiping his eyes, which are tainted red, a drastic contrast from their resilient blue. Keith feels a pang in his chest. So he does the only thing he can think of that will help. He shrugs out of the jacket and tosses it onto the backseat.

“No, you don't… you don't have to take it off…” Lance manages.

“Yeah, it was stupid of me to wear it, I don't know what I was thinking…”

“No…” Lance hiccups, “it's me. I don't know what’s wrong with me…” He swipes his sleeve across his face once more before the light turns green. He eases off the brake slowly, like he’s scared to even drive anymore. Keith feels even more guilty. “Let’s talk about something else.” Lance says.

Keith doesn't even know how to strike up another conversation without sounding like a fool, so he stays quiet.

Eventually, Lance speaks. “Sooo… That was your mom?”

Keith is confused at first. Why did Lance want to know about his mother?  Then he realizes that they look absolutely nothing alike and Lance was probably just confused. “Oh. I'm adopted.”

“ _Really_? I could hardly tell.” Lance smiled.

It took Keith a little longer than necessary to figure out he was being sarcastic.

The two order burritos and pick a table near a window where no one can hear every word they say. Not that they’re speaking. They’re both slamming down food like there’s no tomorrow. It surprised Keith. Lance was so slender, but ate like he was a competitive eater.

Keith likes that Lance’s isn’t self-conscious about pigging out. Sam was a picky eater. He had to disassemble everything and remove what he didn’t like.

Lance sips from his straw, swallowing, then breaks the peaceful silence.  “Where’d you find the ring?”

“In his room. In one of his trophies.”

An awkward silence falls over them.

Was it his turn to talk? Keith honesty didn't know. He wasn't exactly the best conversationalist. Keith rips off another bite of burrito between his teeth while he formulates something to say.

“You know how I told you Justin and Ashley were cool?” Keith asks.

Lance nods and takes a bite off his own burrito.

Keith continues. “I take it back. They’re psycho.”

Keith tells Lance what Justin said to him and how he basically encouraged Sam to sleep around.

Lance looks angry and shakes his head. “It still doesn't excuse his behavior.”

“I know. But maybe it explains a little.”

“Jason’s going down with him for those texts he sent me.” Lance says.

Now would be the perfect time to tell Lance the truth. Keith opens his mouth to do it, but the words stick in his throat. Keith fills his mouth with burrito.

Lance’s gaze drifts out the window. “Sam could be so romantic and sweet. Like, on my birthday I got out of school to find my car stuffed full of balloons. He’d soaped my windows with I heart you.” Lance’s lips curl up slightly.  

Keith remembered the time, about a week after he and Sam met, that he found his locker covered in glittery heart stickers. The principal wasn’t so happy about him defacing school property. Sam did help him scrape them all off, though. Then, a few days later, Keith’s locker was covered in rainbow stickers.

Lance says, “He’d call late at night and we’d talk for hours and hours. He made me feel like I was the only person in the world. I’d keep trying to hang up, but he’d say, ‘Just one more minute.’ Which turned into an hour. It was fun, but I was so wasted the next day.” Lance stops and lowers his head. “Sorry.”

Keith stays quiet. Sam used do that with him too. He’d say how much he loved Keith and how lucky he was that coincidence had brought them together.

Lance sighs. “We lost the meet today.”

That jolts Keith back to the present. “Do you like swimming? Professionally?”

“Yeah, I do. I'm planning to try out for the team at UCSD. Sam and I were going to get an apartment in Escondido.”

Keith almost chokes.

“What?” Lance asks.

Keith takes a sip of his drink. Now was not the time to tell him that Sam signed a letter of intent to go to SF State. “I'd like to see you swim sometime.”

“Why?”

“I bet you're really good.”

Lance shrugs. “We placed third overall this year.”

“Wow.”

“It's not first.”

He’s driven, the way Sam was about his running. The way Keith used to be about lifting.

“You do anything?” Lance asks. “Sport-wise, I mean.”

“I lift. Weights… That’s about it.”

“My friend’s friend lifts. Shay. She’s on our school’s team. Are you on your team?”

Keith glanced down at his lap. He wasn’t even though he really wanted to try out. Sam’d talked him out of joining.

“No.” Keith answers.

“Why?”

“Guess.”

“Ha.” Lance shakes his head. “Sam was definitely the jealous type.”

He most certainly was. The tiniest thing set him off, just seeing Keith ask another guy for a pencil was a fight. The only reason why Sam was fine with Keith hanging out with Shiro and Allura was because he’d known them before they started dating.

“Sam was always suspicious of my friends, too.” Lance wipes at a smear of sour cream on his mouth with a napkin. “And he hated how much time I had to spend with the team. Like it was one big orgy.” Lance rolls his eyes.

They fall silent again. “Was it?” Keith asks.

Lance looks at him and, with a mischievous glint in his eye, says, “Yeah. I’d sneak everyone into Hollister at night and we’d go wild.”

Keith’s face turns beet red, and then when Lance starts laughing, he realizes it was a joke. Keith smiles a little.

“Tell me about your family.” Lance says.

What’s to tell? “My mom’s a health coach and my dad’s an obstetrician. I have a baby sister.”

“Really?” Lance looks practically starry-eyed. “I love babies.”

Keith wants to ask about the baby he saw on Lance’s twitter, but Lance says, “I have a nephew. And seven baby cousins.”

Geez.

“It’s the Catholic in us. Big families. Procreation, you know?” Lance’s cell rings. He digs it out of his pocket and answers, “¿Qué pasa?” He listens as Keith sips from his cup silently. “Out with a friend.” He goes for his own drink. “Mamá, I’m still in Murrieta. Why can’t Sophia do it?” He listens, pursing his lips at Keith. Keith can’t help but stare. Lance has nice lips. Not really that thick, but not unbelievably thin. Just-right lips.

Keith is still mesmerized by Lance’s lips when he gathers up their trash. “I have to go home. I’m supposed to help my younger siblings with their homework. Thanks for the ring.”

“No problem.”

At the door, he turns. “We didn’t even get to talk about… you know.”

Fine by Keith. It wasn’t Lance’s responsibility to reconcile his feelings.

Lance drops Keith off in front of his house. “So,” he goes.

“So.” That’s it. He feels an unwelcome sense of conclusion as he gets out of the car.

Keith’s almost to his door when Lance calls. “Hey! You left your jacket.” Sam’s blue coat is in Lance’s frantically waving hand. “I guess it’s not really yours but… you know what I mean.”

Keith starts back to the car, but on his way there, something in his heart tells him to let the jacket go. Maybe it’s God, or some other bigger force, or even his guilty conscience trying to do right. He isn’t sure, but he feels a sense of peace without the jacket. Maybe it’d do that for Lance.

“Keep it.” Keith tells him.

Lance’s face does something weird. Like a smile and grimace put together. But the smile outweighs the grimace, and Lance gives Keith a little nod.

Keith curses himself, curses the world—the underworld, the afterworld—as he watches Lance’s taillights disappear into the night.

He feels trapped between two worlds. One is pulling him backward, the other forward. The regressive force is stronger, yet the desire to move on is so fierce he’s having difficulty staying rooted. Keith knows the past is Sam, but can the future be Lance?

Sam would be irate if they got together. He’d hate both of them.

Keith knows he shouldn’t care, but he does. He has to let Lance go, allow him to move forward so that he can do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, y'all haven't been leaving any comments. whats going on?? anything helps!! ;)))


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jason almost catch dem hands from keith. keith goes to lance's meet, and afterward they go out for lunch.

Lance texts him two days later on Friday.

_Wanna meet up Sunday? Movie?_

Keith’s heart flutters. Was this really happening? Lance asking him out? His response is almost instant.

_Sure_

But, wait. His parents would be curious as to where he was going. And they might not even let him go. Keith texts:

_Where?_

_I was thinking the same place in Escondido_

Keith paused. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

_Okay_

_3 o clock???_

_Perfect_

He regrets sending it as soon as he does, because maybe Lance is taking it the wrong way, and isn't entirely into him that way. Or maybe he’s taking pity on Keith.

Keith eventually tells himself he’s just overreacting; Lance wouldn't have asked him if he didn't like him.

When Sunday arrives, Keith gets up super early as part of his bargain with his parents: scrub the kitchen from top to bottom and he was free to go. That being said, Keith hated cleaning, so it was one of the hardest things he had to do. He could barely push a mop effectively.

Keith finishes around two, and flies up the stairs to clean himself up a bit. Before he gets in the shower, his cell rings.

“I can’t come.” Lance says.

Keith deflates.

“Can we reschedule?” Lance asks.

A bubble of hope rises. “Sure.” Keith tells him.

“It’s just that,” Lance sucks in a breath, “my _mamá’s_ tripping. Since I was late getting home Wednesday, she won’t let me go out anymore this week.”

Keith feels guilty. If Lance didn’t have to bring him home, he probably wouldn’t have been late.

“You don’t have to explain.” Keith says. But he’s actually glad Lance did. It was better that he’d told him so Keith’s mind wouldn’t have to wander to fill in the blanks. It was none of his business anyway.

“I feel like I have to… I... I’ve been looking forward to it.”

Keith’s heart starts to beat faster. _Seriously_? “I-it's fine. Don’t worry about it.” He says after a while.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

Lance winces and Keith stammers.

“I-I mean, it’s no big deal, the rescheduling part, _not_ you not coming… Wait, I mean–”

Lance’s laughs surprise Keith. He sure is glad Lance can’t see him because he’s blushing red.

“I know what you mean.”

“Oh… Okay.”

“See ya around? Well, not literally, I can’t see you through the phone. But, you know. Around, around.”

“Yeah.” Keith smiles. “See ya around.”

* * *

 

Jason is waiting at Keith’s locker the following Monday. He looks… stricken.

“Hi.” Keith says hesitantly. He tries to be cordial, once he remembers that Jason is as much a victim of Sam’s actions as he and Lance are. “I’m sorry about the motorcycle,” Keith says. “And the lock on Sam’s door. I hope you got everything out you wanted.”

Jason snorts. “Who gives a shit about that fucking bike? When I get my license I’m buying a Ferrari.”

‘Right,’ Keith thinks. ‘With what money?’ He should tell Jason about the cash hidden under Sam’s mattress, though a few hundred dollars isn’t enough to buy tires for a Ferrari.

“The anniversary was last Saturday,” Jason mumbles.

All the anniversaries Keith can think of scroll through his head. No hits. “Of what?”

Jason gives Keith a blank stare. “He died that day. We missed it.”

Oh God. He did? Time seems to have become a sort of nuisance that Keith has to contend with everyday. It’s been easier lately, and Keith knows he should feel guilty for it. But for some reason, he doesn’t.

Keith spins the combination lock to open his locker.

“We should do something,” Jason says.

Keith doesn’t say anything, instead he grabs his books for his morning classes and avoids Jason’s eyes. He tries to block out the despair Jason’s emanating. It’s impossible. “What did you have in mind?”

When he doesn’t answer, Keith starts to think that maybe Jason should talk to someone to help him with the grief of losing a brother. “You know, there’s free grief counseling—”

“Shut up!” Jason snarls. “No one understands or cares how I feel, obviously you don’t.” He slaps the books out of Keith’s arms and turns to walk away.

Something snaps in Keith’s head, all of his good sense goes clean out of the window, because the next thing Keith knows, he’s stalking forward, ready to snatch Jason back by his hood, and do God knows what to him.

Somewhere distant, he can feel someone or something trying to stop him, but he ignores it. It’s only when someone physically steps in front of him that he comes back to his senses.

“Hey!”

His vision clears from its blurry state and he finds that the voice and body belong to a tall, beefy girl with curly brown hair and worried look on her face. She has a good six or seven inches on Keith, he has to look up to her. And he has no idea who she is.

“Calm down, bro.” She grips his shoulders, almost trying to keep him from walking any further. “He’s a douche. Not worth it at all.”

Keith just stares back at her, focusing on steadying his breathing and not this strange girl he’s never seen _touching_ him.

She loosens her grip and bends down, picking up Keith’s books. “Here.”

Keith takes them, all while looking up at the girl uneasily. What did she want?

“I just didn’t wanna see you get in trouble, though I wouldn’t mind watching you beat the brakes off that asshole.” Then she smiles. Actually smiles. “Take it easy, buddy.”

Keith stares as she walks off. What the hell just happened?

He finally takes in the small crowd of people that had formed. They all stare back at him, wide-eyed. Keith ignores them, glancing off in the direction Jason went. He was gone.

* * *

 

By Lunch, everyone is giving Keith some pretty weird looks and he isn’t sure what to make of it. He gets a tray and heads to the table where Shiro and Allura are sitting, waiting for him.

The two are speaking in a hushed tone, but it stops abruptly as Keith sits. So much for a normal day at lunch.

“Keith.” Shiro clears his throat. “Are you… okay?”

What in the hell was he talking about?

“Yeah?” Keith isn't sure if he's answering correctly. Physically, yeah, he was okay. Mentally and somewhat emotionally, he was not okay. He was feeling quite shitty.

“What did your parents say? Did they even call them?”

Was Shiro high? Okay, Keith knew the answer to that was no. He was a star athlete, so of course he did nothing of the sort (that and he was an old man at heart, he barely even drank). But what he meant was, Shiro was talking out of his head.

“What?” Keith is very much regretting coming to lunch. This is the first time since the incident of the game that he's eaten lunch with them. He'd been skipping for a week (and somehow, he'd gained weight, which was beyond him) and only chose today to come on a whim.

“Shiro,” Allura says, “he obviously doesn't know what you're talking about.”

Keith had an idea though. Probably something to do with his scuffle with Jason.  Maybe that was why everyone was giving him crazy looks. But it wasn’t that major, he didn’t even touch Jason.

“Do you?” Allura asks Keith.

“No.” Keith said dryly.

Shiro looks puzzled. “So... you didn’t get in a fight?” He asks.

Keith snorts. He couldn’t believe how fast rumors spread, false ones at that. It was disgusting and also slightly amusing that people could create something from nothing.

Allura says, “I’ve heard several accounts of it. Some were less… _flattering_ than others.” Then she giggles. “I even heard one in World History, I had to laugh. ‘That short, mean Asian boy broke his foot on someone’s ass.’”

“Allura!”

“I’m sorry!” She was still laughing, Keith on the other hand, did not look amused. “It was funny; I-I know it’s not true. It sounded made-up.”

“Not entirely…” Keith mumbles.

“So it’s true?” Shiro says. “Who was it?”

“Jason.”

“What! Why?”

Keith sighs. “I was only trying to help him and he started being a bitch about it. He slapped my books outta my hands.”

“Keith... You can’t let petty stuff like that upset you. It seems like he was just looking for a reaction out of you. And he almost got one… I think he’s still grieving… just like you.”

Keith is silent. He never knew what to say to Shiro’s ‘dad talks’.

“You can't help everyone.” Allura says. “Sometimes it's best to leave those who don't want help alone.”

* * *

 

Keith is doing what he usually does Friday nights—Nothing—when he gets a text from Lance. His heart leaps. It reads:

_Clairemont. Saturday at 9_

Keith knows he shouldn’t jump at Lance’s every beck and call the way he did with Sam. Hell, Keith’s parents were still wary of Lance for standing him up (not really) Sunday. And who is Lance to Keith, anyway? An acquaintance? A friend? Someone who was hidden from him, which only adds to the mystery of Lance.

On Saturday, Keith is late because he can’t find Clairemont High school. When he finally arrives, the meet’s already in progress and the bleachers are full. He heads for the black and red of La Jolla High, not daring to go into the stands. He leans against the handrail, crossing his arms, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible.

The announcer says that the next match up is the girls' 100-meter freestyle. Keith watches this and two other events with still no show of Lance. Keith pulls his coat tighter around himself, wondering if Lance was lying to him. But, why would he lie about this? Keith scowled, mostly at himself. Why was he worried about Lance lying to him when _he_ was lying to Lance?

As soon as the thoughts enter his head, the announcer calls for the contestants of the boys’ 100-meter individual medley, and Keith spots Lance amidst the frenzy. He’s pulling a cap over his head, adjusting his goggles and rushing up to the platform in lane four.

He looked… focused. Which was so different from how he’d presented himself in all of their previous meetings. Keith's heart was beating like a drum in his chest, hard and heavy against his ribcage.

Lance looked amazing. His long, tan legs, and lean torso. His arms were long and sinewy too, with the slightest hint of muscle. He really was stunning.

The announcer starts the countdown, and everything goes quiet. A buzzer sounds, all six of the contestants dive in. It’s a flurry of arms, and water splashing everywhere. Keith can barely see Lance, just his blue cap and long arms flying out of the water. He makes it to the end of the pool and somehow turns himself around and speeds back down the length of the pool on his back. He’s broken away from the other competitors by now, and is heading back down the pool a third time.

Keith is mesmerized. That Lance has that much stamina to perform such a strenuous activity, and do it well at that. It made Keith a little self-conscious. When Lance finishes, Keith looks to the scoreboard. Lance’s time was one minute and sixteen seconds. He made it back first too.

The meet ends twenty minutes or so later, and everyone is flooding down the bleachers so Keith hangs back, waiting for Lance. Keith spots him a few minutes later, he’s fully dressed, his hair still damp, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Keith starts towards him, and notices he’s talking to a petite girl with almond-colored hair and a tall, kinda chunky guy. He stops in his tracks.

Who were these people? Keith didn’t want to get entangled in Lance’s personal life too early on. So he hung back, watching them for a moment. Lance was giving off and entirely different aura, cool and relaxed. Keith just wondered how much he didn’t know about Lance yet…

The girl suddenly points at Keith, and Lance turns around, his eyes go big. He turns back around and says something to the boy and girl, before shooing them off frantically. The girl looks particularly angry, and Keith can make out ‘Lance, I swear if you don’t stop fucking pushing me…’

Lance still persisted in shooing them, until they finally relented and walked off (not before Keith caught the girl giving him a particularly devilish glare). Lance rushes over to Keith, and smiles. “You came.”

“I didn’t think it was a request.”

Lance whaps him on the arm. It sends a tingle up Keith’s neck and spine.

He digs in his duffle bag for his keys, then turns to Keith. “Our usual spot?”

“The Chipotle?”

“No, silly. The McDonald’s in Escondido. Is that okay?”

Keith finds his keys. It’s more than okay. They have a regular spot.

* * *

 

They order burgers, fries, and cokes; Lance doesn’t even ask Keith to pay for him. They head for the same booth from before, and Keith isn’t sure what to say to Lance. He can only think of one reason why he asked him to come today.

“So… I guess you want to say a prayer or something for the anniversary. I should tell you that I’m not that religious.”

He gives Keith a blank look. “What anniversary?”

Is he joking? “You know. Sam’s death?”

“What about it?”

“It was a month—well, five weeks ago today.”

Lance unwraps his burger and says, “Not for me. I still have a week to go before the anniversary of the day my life was destroyed.”

Keith cringes. Why did he have to open his mouth? Unwrapping his cheeseburger, he replies, “Is it really that important what day you heard about it?”

“Yes!” He snaps. “Because it changed everything I ever knew about him. Or thought I did. Not to mention that I learned about you.”

Well, ditto. Keith’s eyes fall and he crosses his arms. So much for being friendly.

Lance rakes his hands through his hair and expels a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. There’s no reason to take it out on you. You’re the only person I can talk to who even halfway understands what I’m going through.”

Keith lifts his head and their eyes meet and hold. Not for long, though. He can’t look at Lance without feeling guilty about the impact of the texts.

“Let’s just eat and talk about something, and someone, else,” Lance says. He lifts his burger to his mouth and chomps into it. Keith just sits there. Lance motions for him to eat. Keith fiddles with a fry. His appetite was gone.

After swallowing, Lance says, “Our girls’ team is the worst in the league, in case you didn’t notice. I was almost embarrassed to have you see that.”

“I wasn’t really watching them.” Shit. Keith should superglue his mouth shut.

Lance smiles and takes a sip of Coke.

Keith isn’t really sure what to say next, so he goes with, “Tell me about your family.”

Lance swirls a few fries in ketchup. “I have four sisters and one brother. Luci, Sofia, and the triplets, Zoe, Mia, and Bobby.” He smiles. “My mom and dad, a bunch of pets, and Wyatt, Luci’s baby boy.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah, she had him right after she turned twenty, _mamá_ was _so_ not happy with her.”

“No, not that. You've got a big family.”

“Oh. Yeah. Big, loud, and opinionated, but I love ‘em.”

“Is that why you’re not out to them?”

He frowns slightly. “Who said I’m not out?”

Keith thinks back. “I thought you did.”

“I’ve been out for a while now. Probably two or three years. Of course, it’s easier coming out as bi than it is for someone who’s gay.” Lance says.

So he was bi? Hmm. “Does your family accept you?” True, it wasn’t something Keith would’ve liked someone asking him, but Lance seemed fairly open to crazy questions.

“It took some time.” Lance sighs. “My _papá_ still prays for me. I guess it's because I'm his first son, and he expected me to pass on the family name. Doesn't matter that I'm just _bi_. My mom’s pretty much okay with it. I think she's just glad I won't knock up anyone anytime soon.”

Sounded tough. A lot tougher than Keith’s parents’ scrutiny.

There was a lull in the conversation. They munched away on their burgers, noiselessly. Keith was waiting for Lance to ask a question, honestly, but he seemed to be too caught up in eating to bother. How someone that scrawny could eat so aggressively was baffling.

“So,” Keith swallows, “who were those two at the meet?”

“Pidge and Hunk? They're practically family. I’ve known Hunk since kindergarten and Pidge since freshmen year.”

“They seem… protective.”

“Oh…” He laughed uneasily. “Um, I may or may not have told them about you… And they don't think so highly of you now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

“I’m pretty used to people being weird around me.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.” He shrugs. “So, you have any friends?”

“Two. Shiro and Allura.”

“Oh, that makes sense now. When you called me Shiro, I mean.”

“Sorry about that, by the way.”

“It’s fine. I definitely know the feeling.”

They finish their lunches and talk and laugh about all kinds of things. The only subjects that don’t come up again are Sam and the anniversary. Thank God.

Keith adds Lance to his contacts list. Not that he expects him to call or anything. But if Lance does invite Keith to another meet, he could develop an interest in swimming.

* * *

 

Coran hands back the “Ignorance Is Bliss” papers, and Keith sees that he got a D-. At the top he wrote a note: _Keith, of all my students, I thought you’d be the one to figure out that the opposite of “Ignorance Is Bliss” is “Knowledge Is Bliss.”_

‘Shit. I’m so stupid.’ Keith thinks.

Even though he’s intent on listening and taking notes while Coran explains the next assignment—writing a critical analysis paper—Keith can’t ignore the buzzing cell in his pocket. He takes a quick peek at the ID.

It’s Lance.

Keith knows that he’s going to need to bring up his grade with this next paper, but he can’t stand it. He sets his phone in his lap and reads Lance’s text:

_What are you doing at this very moment?_

Keith glances up to see Coran writing on the white board.

He texts:

_Texting you_

_No duh, wise guy. Seriously. Where are you?_

_English. Meh_

Lance texts:

_I love English_

_You don’t have Coran. He should be teaching Middle English. He’s that old_

Lance texts:

_LOL. Do you get to write poetry?_

Keith texts:

_God, I hope not_

_You don’t like poetry?_

_I do. I just can’t write it_

_Have you ever tried?_

Keith gets the feeling he’s being watched, and when he looks up Coran is hovering over him with his hand out.

Busted. Keith gives him the phone. Not missing a beat, Coran continues his lecture, returning to the front of the room, where he drops the cell onto his desk. It vibrates and a bunch of people snigger and swivel around to _tsk_ at Keith. He frowns back at them.

Keith tries to take notes, but now he’s distracted. Worried Lance will keep calling or think he cut him off. The minutes tick by and Keith finds himself doodling his name: Lance. Lance. Pretty name. It fits him. Lance McClain. It sounded poetic.

The period ends with the blaring of the bell.

“I want to approve your topic and thesis before you begin your critical analysis paper, so write up a paragraph and bring it in on Thursday,” Coran says as Keith is gathering his stuff to leave. “You can choose a book, a movie, or anything you feel is worthy of analysis. The subject is wide open. What I’m looking for are your logical analysis skills and writing abilities.”

Keith quickly takes down the notes from the board: _Purpose (thesis statement); Short Summary; Arguments; Conclusion._ He’ll have to Google them to find out what each means.

Coran is shoving his notes into his briefcase when Keith stops by his desk. He doesn’t glance up.

“Coran?”

“Yes, Keith.” Still no eye contact.

“Can I have my phone back?”

“At the end of the day. I’ll be in the English Department office.” He heads out the door.

Keith resists the urge to lay hands on an old person.

As Keith enters the cafeteria, he passes Jason speeding toward the exit. Probably to smoke a joint or six.

Keith turns around, staring at him through squinted eyes. Jason must know he’s being watched because he turns around too, and stares back at Keith. It’s pretty intense, if someone were to walk past the two, they might think that they were in an old western having a showdown. Either that, or a passionate stare-down. Eww.

Coran abruptly bustles toward Keith. “Keith, there you are. My partner is sick and I have to leave, but I wanted you to have your phone back.”

That was nice. Keith feels bad about assuming he was out to get him personally.

Then Coran says to Jason, “You’re going to be late for class.”

Jason’s eyes narrow. “Fuck off,” he says to Coran.

Keith is shocked.

Coran, ever the mellow fellow, only gives him an amused look. “I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Coran pivots and hurries off before he hears the string of curses under Jason’s breath. Keith suppresses cursing back at him, and watches him saunter down the hall and around the corner. Then he checks his phone.

There are ten texts and a voice mail. He keys in his password to listen to the message.

Lance says, “Hi. It’s me. Are you okay?”

Keith calls him back.

He answers on the first ring.

“My cell got confiscated in class,” Keith tells him.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I know the rules.”

“So do I. I shouldn’t be texting you during the day.”

“No. It’s fine.”

“It’s weird, but I feel better talking to you. More hopeful that life goes on. I hope you don’t mind.” Lance says.

“I don’t mind. I feel the same way.” Which is true.

“Where are you now?” He asks. The halls are filling and ears are everywhere, so Keith slips into the restroom and locks himself in a stall.

“In the bathroom.”

“Before class or after?”

“Between. English and lunch.”

Lance says, “English. Lunch,” like he’s writing it down. “I sent a request to follow me again on Twitter. But if you want me to go away and leave you alone, just deny it. I’ll understand.”

Someone comes in and takes the stall next to Keith. He faces the wall and muffles their conversation, which creates a time lapse.

“Okay.” Lance says. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“No.” Keith lowers his voice. “I don’t want you to leave me alone. It’s just…” He whispers, “Somebody’s in here.”

“Oh, okay. Anyway, if you want to talk, I’ll need your schedule so I’ll know when it’s safe to call. And vice versa.”

Two things strike Keith instantly: 1. Lance plans to call again. 2. Sam never could remember Keith’s schedule, no matter how many times he told him or wrote it down. Keith knew where Sam was every second of every day. Or at least thought he did.

He asks Lance, “Where are you?”

“In the locker room, getting ready for practice.”

“Swim?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to be ready for warm-ups in two minutes. By the way, I took my ring back for a refund? Since I had it sized, they wouldn’t give me the total amount, which bites, but I did find out something interesting.”

“What?”

“Lance, Coach is looking for you,” He hears in the background.

“I’ll tell you later,” Lance says. “You’ll die. Sort of the way I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who y'all think would've won that fight??? also i bet y'all can't guess who coran's partner is. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith has to babysit emily and him and lance have their first kiss!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of my favorite chapters. it's a little long, but we wanted to include that kiss since it's chapter ten <3

Keith is walking up the sidewalk to his house when he sees Jason waiting on the front porch.

Seeing Jason now makes Keith feel less guilty that Lance still blames him for the texts. He looks like he wants, or needs, to talk. But at the moment, Keith isn’t in the mood for his pity party. “Why are you here?” Keith asks, not trying to hide his displeasure.

Jason must’ve been really upset because he frowns and his eyes get watery. He brushes past Keith as he clomps off down the walk. Keith notices how his clothes are barely clinging to his bony body. His waist seems more angular and his arms are so skinny, Keith can see the faint line of veins trying to push through.

There's a tug at Keith’s chest. Good ol’ guilt. He sighs. “Jason, wait.”

Jason doesn't even turn; he just holds up the middle finger.

Of course, his mom takes this time to come out with Emily on her hip. “Keith? What's going on?”

Keith turns briefly to glance at his mom, and when he turns back, Jason is gone.

“Are you coming in?” Catherine asks. “Who are you looking for?”

“No one.” Keith mumbles, tightening his grip on his backpack and slipping past Catherine, inside.

Keith goes straight up the stairs to his room. He tosses his bag and jacket into the corner before slipping out of his jeans and into an old pair of shorts. He walked over to the weight bench, picking his gloves up off the bar, pulling them on. Then he pulled the hair at the base of his neck up with a hair tie.

Keith stood before the bench, somewhat ominously. For the first time in months, he was going to do this. Going to _lift_.

 After adding some weights to the lifting bar, he gets to work. It was a little difficult at first, he’d definitely gotten rusty at it. He could barely do three consecutive reps without getting winded. But it got easier as he got into a decent rhythm. It felt good. Just like old times. Of course, minus Sam. But Keith was fine with it. He could do this alone.

Keith’d been at it for a while before he’s interrupted. There’s a knock at the door and then it opens, Brad steps in. Keith hangs the weight back on the stand before he sits up and waits for Brad to talk. Except… he doesn’t. Instead he walks aimlessly around Keith’s room, touching and looking at random objects all while sipping from a mug of tea.

Brad takes a particularly long sip from his mug and looks over at Keith for a moment. His eyes are drawn to the short ponytail at the base of Keith’s neck. “Do you need a haircut, son?” He asks.

“Brad!” A voice calls. It’s Catherine. She stands in the doorway to Keith’s room tapping her foot.

“What? It was just a question!”

“You know how moody he gets. Can’t you just leave the boy alone?”

Keith covers his face with his hand, falling back on the bench as his parents had an intense discussion about his ‘moodiness’ apparently. It was quite unpleasant. So much, that when Keith had heard enough of it, he stood and politely escorted his dad out of his room.

Dear God, they were nosy.

* * *

 

After he showers, Keith dials Lance’s number. He answers on the second ring.

“Hey!” Lance says. He actually sounds happy to hear Keith.

“Hi,” Keith says, “You said you found out something about the ring?”

Lance goes quiet, then sighs heavily. So much for being happy.

Keith wishes he’d followed his first mind and not called. He feels presumptuous.

“Can we talk about it later? I’m kinda busy.”

Lance hangs up before Keith can even say bye.

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ Keith thinks. In all of twelve seconds, Keith had made a fool of himself and upset Lance. That had to be a new record.

Keith goes down stairs to clear his mind, even offering to help his mom with dinner, but nothing takes his mind off of Lance. Not even watching Brad making Emily dance to various songs from the 70’s (Keith could never stay upset for long watching Emily’s fat little legs work to _Le Freak_ ). It’s embedded in him, on his mind all throughout dinner and even when he leaves for bed.

* * *

 

Keith can’t sleep. He goes downstairs to make some hot cocoa and passes his mom’s office. The light’s on. Brad is in there, working on Catherine’s computer. He must sense Keith behind him because he says, “Yes, Keith?”

That sixth sense freaks Keith out. Maybe he needed to change deodorants.

He enters and sits in his mom’s ‘thinking’ chair. It’s actually where she naps when she thinks no one’s looking. “I need advice.”

Brad stops typing and wheels around. “Shoot.”

“Someone I know is in trouble and I don’t know how to help.”

“Let me guess. Jason?”

Make that seventh sense.

“Yeah.”

Brad says, “Is he on drugs? Because if he is, I think Justin should know.”

What good would that do? Justin wouldn’t care.

“Yeah, I think he deals them, actually.” Keith thought about how clingy Jason had been with the duffle bag that day in the car. “But that’s not the problem.”

“That’s not the problem?”

“Dad, please. Okay, it’s a problem. But it’s not the worst problem.”

“What could be worse?”

“No one’s talked to him about Sam’s death.”

Brad is quiet for a moment and then he says, “I’m sure Justin and Ashley have.”

‘I’m sure they haven’t.’ Keith thinks. Instead he goes with, “I think he needs professional help. Like grief counseling.”

Brad holds Keith’s eyes for a long time, and then picks up the phone. He must know a slew of psychologists and counselors. When the call is answered, he says, “Is this Jason?”

Dear God. Could he be any more oblivious and stupid?

Brad asks, “Is either of your parents home? This is Dr. Kogane. Keith’s dad?” He listens a minute. “Will you leave a message for Justin to call me—” Brad holds the phone away from his ear. Slowly, he hangs up. “Does he always talk to people that way?”

“Pretty much.” Keith failed to mention he talked to people that way too sometimes.

“I’ll keep trying to get hold of Justin or Ashley. You did the right thing in telling me. That boy needs serious help.” Brad reaches over and pats Keith’s knee.

“What are you going to say to them?” Keith asks.

“I’m going to tell them exactly what you told me.”

“Leave out the part about drugs. And don’t tell them it came from me.”

Brad says, “I’m not leaving out anything.”

Why did he even start this conversation?

Keith’s brain says get up and go, but his body doesn’t respond. Brad starts typing again. He stops and glances over his shoulder. “Is there something else?” He sounds busy and Keith knows he should leave so he can work.

“How do you do it?” Keith asks.

“Do what?”

“Deal with sick babies. Watching them die knowing there’s nothing you can do to save them.”

His dad swivels around in the chair again. His face softens. “Have I ever told you why I started to appreciated being an obstetrician?”

Keith shakes his head.

Brad clears his throat, and leans back in his chair, folding his hands together. He always did this when he was about to go into a long spiel. Keith silently hoped it wouldn’t be too mind-numbingly dull.

“A couple years ago, I was teaching a class down at the community center. Prenatal and Childbirth education.” Brad smiles a little. “There was this one young woman, Monica, who came to the class every week. She had this huge personality; funny, smart, and ambitious. She just lit up the room.”

Brad gazes into the distance, somewhat reverent. “She was eight months pregnant, her first baby… Monica came up to me after class one day, almost hysterical. Apparently, her boyfriend was your typical abuser. Jealous and full of rage. He had to monitor and control her every move. And when he drank or did drugs…” Brad shook his head. “It was so bad, she had to go to a safe house. But, he found her and drug her back.”

Brad swallows. “Anyway, I was packing up to leave one day, when I heard a commotion in the parking lot. Monica was on the blacktop motionless, she’d been beaten severely right there in the lot. By the time we called the ambulance, she was going into labor. The EMTs were trying to save her, but everything seemed to be going wrong. I guess I was in the right place at the right time because I was the one who caught the baby. It was like a miracle, Keith. This little life in my hands, tiny and frail… Monica was saying all kinds of crazy stuff, but one thing she kept repeating was ‘Emily, Emily, Emily.’ She died on the way to the hospital.”

Keith sat quietly.

“But her baby lived. Since the father went AWOL, they were going to put the baby up for adoption. I never wanted to forget that extraordinary woman, so we adopted the baby and named her Emily.” Brad’s voice was soft now, and he wiped at the corner of his eye. “You probably don’t remember that day, do you? The day we brought her home? I think you were upset, like we’d just sprang it up on you, but we didn’t want to tell you the whole story. We wanted you to love her on your own.”

Keith felt like a Grade-A asswipe. All that griping and complaining he’d done when his parents brought Emily home… He regretted it all. Emily didn’t deserve any of it after all she came from.

“It’s the one you save, the one you can, that gives the work meaning and purpose.” Brad met Keith’s eyes. “I hope you find that in your life.”

Keith stands and heads for the door.

“Keith?”

He stopped and turned.

“You’re not responsible for Jason.”

So why did he feel like he was? He may have lost a boyfriend, but he couldn’t even imagine how it felt to lose your brother and best friend.

* * *

 

Keith is Googling all the parts of a critical analysis paper when his cell rings. It’s Lance.

“What’re you doing?” He asks.

“Looking online for a critical analysis paper to plagiarize.”

Lance laughs and Keith really isn't sure why.

“What’s funny?”

“You were kidding, right?”

“No.”

“Oh. I knew that.”

“So. What’s up?”

Lance says, “He never made one payment on the ring.”

It takes Keith a moment to process the remark.

“I don’t know when, but he took it off layaway and got his money back. Obviously, he never intended to give the ring to me.”

Was that the cash under his mattress? If so, it was a lot. “How much did he put down? Do you know?”

“A hundred, that I saw. He said he was making payments every week.”

More lies.

Lance adds, “I found out when I went to return my ring and saw that the matching one was back on display.”

Oh God. That had to hurt. Keith can’t think of anything to say except, “I’m sorry.”

Lance goes, “Yeah, well, I just want to get past it all.”

‘Me too.’ Keith thinks. He’d better get rid of the cell too. The sooner the better.

“So what are you doing?” Lance asks. “Besides committing a felony?”

Keith snorts. “Yeah, right?”

“It is! Plagiarism may only be a misdemeanor. Either way, you’re gonna do hard time. I was wondering…” His voice trails off.

“What?”

“If. Maybe. We could meet again?”

Keith’s heart pounds in his chest. “Sure. When? Where?” Does he sound too eager? “Our regular spot?”

“Yeah. And maybe somewhere else afterwards.”

Keith’ll have to get permission from Brad and Catherine to miss dinner. “I’ll try,” Keith tells him.

He says, “If it’s a problem…”

“No. No problem. My mom and dad just think we should all eat dinner together.”

“Yeah, we have that tradition, too. It’s hard, though, when everyone has work and sports. But I like it when we can all be together.”

Hmm. ‘Maybe I should appreciate our family traditions, too.’ Keith thinks.

Except in this case. “I’ll be there,” Keith says.

* * *

 

The next morning, just as Keith’s going to ask about Friday night, Brad says, “I wasn’t going to go to the annual obstetrics conference in San Francisco this weekend, but there’s a special session devoted to new developments in prenatal care, and I’d like to attend. Your mom’s college roommate lives in Oakland, and she hasn’t seen her in years, so she’d like to go with me.”

What? No, please, no. “You can’t me alone with Emily.”

“It’ll only be Friday and Saturday nights.”

“I can’t. I have plans on Friday.”

“Cancel them,” Catherine says from her spot at the stove.

Odds are everything will be fine, but Keith can still feel the terror of Emily almost choking to death the last time he babysat. And why Friday?

“We’ll leave after you get home from school and be back by Sunday afternoon,” Brad says.

He must see the panic on Keith’s face because he adds, “It’s only two nights.”

Forty-eight hours of impending doom for Emily. And eardrum damage for Keith.

Catherine says. “It’s time you took more responsibility for Emily. She _is_ your sister.”

“I feed her, don’t I? And I’ve changed about a gazillion diapers.”

Catherine sets a plate of buttermilk pancakes with blueberries and whipped cream on top in front of Keith. Sheer bribery.

“You’ll be fine,” Brad says. “And I’m sorry about your plans. You’ll just have to reschedule.”

Catherine adds, “No wild parties while we’re gone.”

Like Keith has enough friends to invite to a party.

On his way to school, Keith texts Lance:

_Friday’s out. My parents are going to San Francisco and I have to babysit_

Lance texts back a few minutes later:

_what’s in san francisco?_

Keith sends:

_Sea lions?_

_Bork._

_Stop. They actually went there for a conference or something_

Lance texts:

_Oh. Cool._

The two carry on silly conversations for the rest of the week. Lance is crazy fun to talk to. He makes Keith laugh. He also makes Keith wish he was meeting him Friday night.

Keith asks Coran if he can have an extension on his critical analysis paragraph, since he has nothing to turn in on Thursday. “I have a subject in mind” —a minor fib— “but I want to make sure there’s enough there for a thesis, evidence, and conclusion.” Hopefully that’ll show him he’s been thinking about it, at least.

Coran narrows his eyes and twirls his mustache, and then says, “Okay. But Monday at the latest.”

By Monday, Keith may be incarcerated for plagiarism, child abuse, or both.

Friday he takes the long route home, thinking, if he’s late maybe Brad and Catherine will cancel their trip. Yeah, right.

The long route means passing Sam’s cul-de-sac, and Keith sees that the motorcycle is gone. He knows he should feel something—like the final link to Sam has been broken. Keith doesn’t feel anything, though. Except maybe sad for Jason.

Awesome idea to walk the long way. The wind starts to pick up, and Keith is freezing by the time he gets home.

Catherine’s standing in the hallway with her rolling luggage, and Brad behind her holding Emily in her carrier.

Catherine says, “Our hotel info and itinerary are on the fridge. Emily has a bit of a runny nose, so I’ve written down her pediatrician’s number, too. You have my cell, and your dad’s.”

And 911.

Brad hands Emily off to Keith and immediately a bolt of anxiety shoots through him. Two whole days?

Emily must sense his fear because she lets out a whimper. Brad smooths her bushy hair and says, “You’ll be fine, sweetie. Your big brother has thought of all kinds of ways to entertain you. Right?” He looks to Keith for confirmation.

‘Like leaving choking hazards around,’ Keith thinks.

“Have a good time.” Keith trudges after them to the door and into the garage.

Brad shoves his and Catherine’s suitcases in the back of the car and says, “Keith, I don’t know if I feel comfortable with you driving Emily around. But if you have to…”

“I won’t,” Keith says. He’ll be watching her every move.

They stand as if in suspended animation until Brad says, “We better hit the road.”

Catherine gives Keith a brief hug. Brad looks like he might hug Keith, but then changes his mind. They both get in the SUV and back out of the driveway.

Emily starts to cry. Inside, Keith unstraps her, picks her up, and tries to quiet her. She screams louder.

“Emily, please.” She’s screeching and fighting so hard that Keith’s afraid he’ll drop her. He crosses to the living room and tries to sit her in her swing. She kicks and kicks. What’s wrong? It’s like she associates Keith with danger, the way she should.

“Emily, come on. You like to swing. See?” Keith pushes the swing back and forth.

She screeches like a crow. Angry tears spring to Keith’s eyes because he doesn't know what to do. He’s confused, scared, and livid all at once. He sets Emily in her playpen and finds one of her toys, the plastic keys on the key ring. Could she swallow those? Keith tosses them away and finds a stuffed lion. She slaps it away. There’s a pacifier on the coffee table, but he’d have to take his eyes off her to reach it.

Keith lifts her again and she arches her back away from him. She’s strong and struggling.

“Please, Emily. Give me a break.”

Maybe a bottle. Keith takes her with him to warm a bottle. It feels like he has a death grip on her, hard enough to squeeze the air right out of her lungs. What he drops her, though? What if she breaks a bone or dies from head trauma?

Keith sets the bottle in the warmer and turns it on.

Emily is bawling and kicking, clenching her fists, and Keith doesn't know what to do. Just as he’s about to call Brad or Catherine and admit he’s a total failure as a brother, the doorbell rings.

“Emily, chill,” Keith says to her, but she pounds on him all the way to the door. Keith doesn't even check the peephole; he just flings it open.

It’s Lance.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” He smiles, and takes one look at Emily, Keith’s grimace, and his disheveled appearance, and understands right away. “Glad I decided to come over, you look like you need help. What’s wrong with her?” He has to raise his voice to be heard over Emily’s screaming.

“She hates me.”

Lance makes a face. “Babies can’t hate. Can I help?”

“Please.” Keith wheezes. “I’d kiss you if you could.” He realizes what he’d just said and his cheeks heat. He’d face-palm if he could, but the writhing baby in his arms convinced him otherwise.

“Promise?” Lance says, but he isn’t looking at Keith, he’s focused on Emily. “What’s her name?” He plucks her out of Keith’s arms as Keith steps aside, letting him in.

“Emily.”

Lance whispers, “ _No llores bebé, todo va a estar bien_.” Rubbing her back, he coos, “Shhh…” It’s like a miracle. She stops crying instantly. Lance nuzzles his face into her neck and Keith can see Emily’s muscles relax.

 “How did you do that?” Keith asks. “What did you say to her? Whatever it was, teach me.”

Lance moves around the living room, stroking Emily’s head and murmuring in her ear in Spanish. “She feels hot.”

“She has a runny nose. And she had a cold not too long ago. Do you think she’s sick? Should we call the doctor?”

Lance feels her armpit. “How long has she been crying?”

Keith glances at the clock on the microwave. “About twenty minutes.” Is that _all_? “Time flies when you’re going deaf.”

Lance smiles. “It could be she’s just upset. Could you bring me a cool washcloth?”

While Keith’s in the kitchen wetting a washcloth, Lance calls from the living room, “She’s adorable. Are you babysitting for the neighbors?”

Keith finally realizes that he hadn’t explained Emily wasn’t his birth sister. Made sense. No person on the street would think an Asian boy and a black baby were in anyway related.

“She’s my sister. Remember? I’m adopted.”

Keith returns with the washcloth and Lance is blushing a fierce shade of red.

“Sorry, I’m an idiot.” He takes the cloth, avoiding eye contact as he sits on the sofa, bending forward tickling Emily’s belly. She grins. “She has gorgeous eyes.”

Keith thinks, ‘He’s the one with gorgeous eyes,’ but realizes that Emily does have pretty eyes. A remarkable chocolate brown hue.

Keith sits on the sofa arm, watching Lance gently dab her cheeks and forehead. He starts to make a game of it, dangling the washcloth and making her reach for it. Emily giggles.

Lance was good with her. A natural. No wonder he loved babies.

“God, I’m glad you came.” Keith tells him. “She might’ve screamed for hours with me. Then the neighbors would’ve called Child Protective Services to remove her from an abusive situation.”

Lance says, “Don’t be silly. She would’ve calmed down.”

“You don’t know her. She really does hate me. Plus, she’s afraid I’ll hurt her.”

He casts Keith an odd look. Keith ends up telling Lance about the button incident, and Lance says, “It was an accident. Babies stick everything in their mouths. Wyatt swallowed a penny once, and it took him two weeks to poop it out.”

“Yuck. Who had to look for it?”

“There are some things only a mother can do.”

Keith looks at him and they both laugh. Lance eventually stands up and hands Keith the washcloth. “You play with her now.”

Reluctantly, Keith takes the washcloth. “She’ll start screaming.” They trade places and Keith gets a whiff of Lance’s hair or body gel. Whatever it is, Keith can’t stop inhaling.

Keith bops the washcloth up and down. Every few bops he lets Emily grab it. But as soon as she puts it in her mouth, he pulls up. Still, she’s grinning.

Lance is standing by the mantle, looking at pictures when Keith speaks up.

“Thanks.”

Lance turns around and gazes into Keith’s eyes. “For what?”

“Saving my life. And Emily’s.”

Lance’s gaze stretches on and on. It’s like neither of them want to be the first to break it off. At last, Lance returns to the sofa, bends down, and presses his palm against Emily’s forehead. He says, “She’s much cooler. I think she’s fine.”

Keith wants to say, ‘I think you’re fine. Better than fine.’ But he doesn’t.

Emily lets out a little sigh. Keith touches the tip of her nose and she rewards him with a smile.

Lance smooths his hand over her curly hair. “She really is precious.”

She is, actually. But Keith wouldn’t dare say it.

Lance says, “Do you have something to drink?”

Keith jumps up. “Yeah, of course.” He reaches down to lift Emily but stops because he knows she’ll cry if he picks her up. Her eyes hold steadily to Keith’s and he doesn’t detect a hint of terror. Keith gives it a try and she actually grasps his neck with her little hand.

Lance follows them to the kitchen, slowing to peer out the window into the yard. “I love your house,” he says. “Just the feel of it. There was something about Sam’s that was… I don’t know. Cold. Or twisted. Chaotic clutter.”

Keith stays quiet. He doesn’t say that he felt the same way.

 “Sorry to bring him up. Let’s never talk about him again.”

“Deal.” Keith feels relieved. Elated. Liberated.

Balancing Emily on his hip, he checks the fridge. Catherine must’ve stocked up before she left. “We have Sprite and Coke. If you’re hungry, I can’t help you.”

“Not a good cook?”

“I burn water.”

Lance smiles. “Well, what do ya have? I cook pretty good.” Keith steps out of the way, letting Lance check the fridge for himself. Keith sets Emily in her high chair, and when he turns back around, Lance has pulled out only three things: biscuit dough, pepperoni, and cheese.

“What are you making?” Keith asks, puzzled.

“Pizza bake.” Lance sets the oven to preheat. “Do you have tomato sauce? And a baking dish?”

Keith digs out a dish from the cupboard, then goes to the pantry for the sauce. When he comes back with it, Lance is laying down a layer of dough in the pan. He’s also given Emily the bag of cheese to play with.

“When do you have to leave?” Keith asks, crossing to the can opener. “I don’t wanna make you late.”

“I’ll be fine as long as I get outta here by nine. This won’t take that long, thoug—Hey, hey! You barely have teeth, little lady. Gimme that.”

Keith turns as Lance wheedles the bag away from Emily, who apparently was chewing on it. She gives Lance a gummy smile, and claps her hands. Keith cracks a small smile too.

He gives Lance the sauce, and watches as he pours the sauce over the dough, then arranges pepperoni over it, and finally tops it off with cheese. He repeats this until he’s used everything up. The oven beeps and he pops it in with a flourish.

“That was quick.” Keith quips.

“Yeah, I cook it for my siblings all the time. They love it.”

“Tell me more about them.” Keith leans on his arms. “Kill some time.”

Lance picks Emily up, holding her above his head, smiling goofily. “We’re currently in deep doo-doo with my _mam_ _á_ for locking Zoe in a cage.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Lance laughed, “an actual cage. She’s the oldest of the triplets, and the bossiest little six-year-old you’ve ever seen.” Lance hooks Emily on his hip, and in a falsetto says, “Go fetch my tiara. I am a princess and deserve to be treated as such.”

Keith smiles.

“Anyway, she’s incredibly mean to Bobby and Mia. I think she tore the head off of Bobby’s teddy bear and killed Mia’s frog.”

“You’re kidding?” Keith honestly had never heard something so far-fetched. A six-year-old killing a frog? But then again, this was Lance, and he was an anomaly.

“Nope. I mean, we don’t have an actual confession from her, but she’s hinted towards it like the conniving little wench she is.” Lance rolled his eyes. “So Bobby and Mia hatched a plan to get back at her by locking her in a cage, except they needed help. They came to me, Luci, and Sofia with the plan, and we thought, ‘What the heck, let’s do it.’ Sofia even went along with it and she rarely gets caught up in our shenanigans.”

Keith listens as Lance explains quite vividly how they stole their dog’s cage from outdoors and how Luciana washed it out because she ‘at least had standards.’

“So we waited until Zo-Zo fell asleep, and then we snuck in and popped her in that sucker. Good thing she’s a pretty heavy sleeper or who knows what would’ve happened. Any-who, when she woke up, she was furious, but couldn’t do anything because mom was getting her hair done and dad was at work. We were planning on leaving her in there all day, just up until _mamá_ came back.”

“To make a long story short, _mamá_ came home early, and she must’ve known something was up, ‘cause she went right upstairs and found Zoe still in that cage, pouting.” Lance shook his head. “So now _mamá_ is mad at us and we’re all pretty much on Zoe’s hit list. No one’s gotten decent sleep for days.”

The oven timer beeped and Lance handed Emily off to Keith to pull the bake out. Keith couldn’t help but watch Lance. His life was so interesting. Living with such a big family, it seemed like he’d never be bored or lonely. Keith could only wish for that.

* * *

 

The phone rings and Catherine tells Keith that they arrived. Already? Keith checks the clock and it’s almost nine. Time soars when you’re eating a pizza bake with a beautiful boy, while your baby sister is safely tucked away in her carrier, sound asleep. Catherine asks how things are going and Keith says, “Great.”

“Did you have a hard time putting Emily down?” she asks.

“No.”

“Really?” She sounds surprised, like she’d been expecting Keith to say otherwise.

Keith doesn’t want to tell her that Emily’s not upstairs in bed yet, since he’s afraid to leave her alone. “We had a good time. She was actually kind of fun.” Keith hears her tell Brad what he said and he smiles at Lance.

Lance checks his phone and freaks out. Hustling to the living room, he makes a call.

Catherine says, “If you need anything, you have our numbers.”

Keith decides that he’s not going to call because he’s determined to prove to them that he’s responsible and trustworthy. That he is a good brother.

“Your mom?” Lance asks as they both end their calls.

“Yeah. Checking up on me, which was actually a good idea, since you saw what a stellar babysitter I am.”

Lance gives Keith a little push on the shoulder. “You’re doing awesome.”

“Yeah. Once you showed up.”

He says, “I have to go.”

“Will you help me put her to bed first?”

Lance follows Keith upstairs. As they transfer Emily to her crib, she whines, but Lance rubs her arm until she calms and her eyelids flutter.

As they hover over her, Lance whispers, “Are you going to stay here all night?”

“I thought I would.”

“Keith, she’ll be fine. You have a baby monitor. Just turn it on and keep the other one with you.”

Baby monitor. “Hang on.” Keith pads into his parent’s room to retrieve it. He hopes that his maternal or paternal instincts are as sensitive as Catherine’s or Brad’s if Emily wakes up and cries. Or coughs. Or chokes.

Lance heads downstairs with Keith on his heels.

“I can’t thank you enough.” Keith says. “For dinner, for helping with Emily. You saved my ass.”

Lance smiles. “No problem.”

The conversation stalls. “Well?” Lance says.

Well what? His bright eyes seem to bore right through Keith. “You promised.”

Oh my God. Does he mean…? Keith’s throat is dry and he licks his lips. Lance does the same, and then takes a step toward Keith, leans down, and touches his lips to Keith’s.

He can't believe it at first. He thinks surely he's dreaming, never did he think he'd be in his living room kissing probably the most beautiful person he's ever seen and even more mind blowing: that beautiful person kissing him back.

Keith was hesitant at first, but quickly relaxed when Lance’s hand snuck around him, settling gently on his hip. Keith hummed, and placed his hands on either side of Lance’s face. It wasn’t like him to blunt, especially since this was the first time he kissed Lance, but he’d wanted this for a while. And it seemed his body was reacting with it.

Keith isn’t sure how long they kiss; he’s far too caught up in the blissful moment. Lance slowly pulls away, gazing into Keith’s eyes. He stares back, and unlike the times before, he makes himself not look away. Keith stares back, peering deeply into Lance’s navy eyes… It’s invigorating.

They gape at one another for a while, until Lance smiles, looking away with a blush. “Uh, I better go.”

“Yeah.” Keith scurries to the door.

Lance digs his hands in his pockets, loping to the door, his head down. “G’nite.” He says, slipping out of the door.

“Nite.” Keith watches him cross the walk to his car and pull off.

He closes the door, leaning against it, missing the warmth of Lance’s lips against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that part with lance and his siblings putting zoe in the cage is from 'the loud house'. (we love that show. XD) let us know how y'all feel about their kiss or anything in general in the comments!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lance visits keith again. smooches, angst, and uncertainty ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another filler chapter!!!!!

Keith must’ve fallen asleep with the baby monitor to his ear because when he wakes up he has a rectangular groove on his cheek. No sounds are coming from the speaker and he thinks, Emily’s dead. She rolled over and suffocated.

Keith races to her room and finds her in her crib, playing with her toes. When she sees Keith, she starts to bounce and smile. So cute, except she smells like a diarrhea factory.

As Keith changes her diaper, he realizes he didn’t give her a bath before putting her down last night. She’s still got some gunk on her face from dinner. Keith decides to feed her breakfast first, so he can wash off all the layers at once.

Emily’s a splasher and soaks Keith’s entire front. When he shampoos her hair, he gives her two pigtails, then a faux-hawk. Keith could do it all day, except the phone rings downstairs. He knows better than to leave her alone, even if it is a safety tub.

As he’s toweling Emily dry, the phone rings again, so he wraps the towel around her and lugs her downstairs with him. “Hi,” Catherine says. “How’re things going?”

“Good.” Except they broke their bath routine, which will probably scar Emily for life.

“What do you have planned today?” She asks.

“I don’t know. I thought we’d sharpen all the knives.”

Catherine chuckles.

“Do you want to say hi to Emily?” He sticks the phone to Emily’s ear and hears Catherine talk to her. Emily’s eyes widen and she says something resembling “ma-ma!” If she’s ever said that before, Keith’s not aware of it.

Keith takes the phone back. Catherine asks him, “Did she just say what I think she did?”

“I think so. Do you think she’s a savant?”

Catherine laughs. “She might just have gas.”

They talk for a couple more minutes, until Emily starts to get squirmy. “I should let you go,” Keith tells her.  “SpongeBob awaits.”

As soon as Keith hangs up, the doorbell rings. Who could be coming over? He peers through the peephole, but it’s black, like there’s a hand over it. “Who is it?” Keith asks.

No answer.

What if it’s a kidnapper? Someone who’s been casing the house, waiting for the right moment? Keith had been watching too many cop shows. Still…

Keith opens the door just a crack and his jaw drops.

“Hi,” Lance says.

Keith opens the door all the way. “What are you doing here?”

Lance pouts. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” God, no. He enters and a blast of cold air blows in with him.

“In the area?” Keith asks.

“Yep.” Lance winks as Keith takes his coat from him. He reaches for Emily. “She’s naked,” Lance says.

“We just took a bath and I haven’t had time to dress her yet.”

“Or yourself.”

Keith scans his front and sees that all he’s wearing is a sleep shirt and boxers. The shirt’s plastered to his body with bathwater. Everything is visible. Keith hugs himself.

“Can I dress her?” Lance asks.

“Sure.” Keith starts to sprint up the stairs, and then stops to let Lance pass.

Keith could take a shower, since Lance’s watching Emily. Instead, he pulls on a pair of sweats and a clean T-shirt. When he comes out, Lance is still in Emily’s room.

“She has the cutest clothes,” Lance says. He chose a white onesie with blue polka-dots and frilly sleeves. He even had the matching bow and clipped it in Emily’s curly mop of hair.

“When they’re not covered with baby crud.”

Lance lifts her into the air and she squeals with delight.

“How long can you stay?” Keith asks. Please say all day and night.

“Until you get sick of me.” He straightens the bow on Emily’s head.

Keith smiles at him. “Then I hope you brought your toothbrush.”

He returns the smile, his eyes teasing.

Even standing this close makes Keith’s heart pound. “What do you want to do? My dad doesn’t want me to take Emily anywhere, so we’re kind of limited.”

“We don’t have to do anything. We could watch a movie.”

A movie. “That sounds good.”

As they head toward the stairs, Lance says, “Is this your room?” He stops at the threshold.

“Yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

God, did he leave underwear strewn about?

Lance hands Emily off to him before wandering in and checking out Keith’s stuff. His laptop, books, and bulletin board. For some reason, Keith wants him to approve.

Lance points to the board. “Do you wanna be a teacher or somethin’?”

“No.” Keith could barely deal with one baby sister. “It just… it helps me organize my thoughts.”

“Huh.” Lance tilts his head to side.

Keith was glad Lance dropped it there. He didn’t think he could explain to Lance that he’d been a topic for the board.

Lance’s phone rings and he digs it out of his back pocket. “Hello?” He turns his back to Keith, a hand on his hip. “No, I’m with a friend.”

Keith smiles, sitting down on the bed, Emily in his lap.

“Pidge, I have other friends.” Lance grips the bridge of his nose. “Um, okay, that’s rude.” He holds the phone away from his ear, Keith can even hear a shrill voice on the other end of the line. “My phone’s breaking up, Pidge.” Lance doesn’t wait for a response, he just hangs the phone up, turning back to Keith. “Sorry about that.”

“She sounded upset.” Keith tells him.

“She’s just being a drama queen.” Lance slips his phone back into his pocket, crossing to the weight bench. “Wow, you really do lift. This is so cool.”

Lance doubted him?

He notices Keith’s puzzled expression, and adds, “I just couldn’t put you and weightlifting together. You’re not really… bulky.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed.

But just as he was about to come back with a snarky retort, Lance says, “I guess you have the legs for it.”

Keith blushed. His legs were the one thing that he hated about himself because Sam hated them. He always told Keith that he should do something to slim down. But nothing he ever tried worked (running with Sam, cutting back on food, nothing). Keith was feeling entirely self-conscious right now, but Lance turned around and actually smiled. “Wish I had your legs. I can barely hold fat on my lower body.”

Keith averted his eyes, trying to glance down at his lap, only Emily was there, and she looked back up at him, finger in her mouth.

Lance continues to fiddle with the set. “Did you do it alone, or did someone help?”

A hitch catches in Keith’s throat. “Uh, Sam would spot me sometimes.”

“Oh…”

Keith knows it shouldn't bother him, but it does. Maybe the fact that Sam would come over to help him with lifting, but would act a total ass at the slight mention of trying out for the team.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Lance’s voice is soft.

“Why would it upset me?” Keith says sharply. “Who cares if the only thing I ever did for myself didn't mean shit to him?” A pique of anger rises inside of Keith and his eyes well with tears.

Damn. Damn _him_.

Keith stands, walking a few steps away from Lance. His grip on Emily tightens as the first tear slips out.

Lance comes up behind Keith and rests his head on the back of Keith’s. Emily's little hand clutches his ear gently. Another tear escapes and slithers down Keith’s cheek. He wipes his nose. Lance turns Keith around and holds him.

Keith can feel Lance’s breath on his neck and it makes him shiver. They lean back and gaze into each other’s eyes, and all Keith can think is, ‘I want to kiss you so badly.’

But Lance steps away and says, “Where’s your Kleenex? In the bathroom?”

Keith nods. Lance goes in and comes out with a few tissues and hands them to Keith.

Keith blows his nose. Lance gives him space, circling the rest of the room.

Emily gets squirmy and Keith says, “I think I forgot to give her a bottle.”

Keith heads out of the room, Lance following him shortly afterwards. Keith warms a bottle, relieved to have put some distance between him and Lance. He sets off every nerve ending in Keith’s entire body.

Keith curls on the sofa with Emily and her bottle, while Lance sits on the other side, as far away as possible. Thank God.

“Want me to check the _On Demand_ movies?” Lance asks.

“Sure.”

He scrolls through and there’s nothing either of them want to see. It’s all Keith can do to keep Lance out of his peripheral vision.

Lance spies Brad’s _Forrest Gump_ DVD and says, “I love that movie.”

“I do, too.” Although he'd never admit it to his dad.

Lance inserts the DVD. Keith places Emily in her playpen and pulls it over in front of them so she can watch, too.

About ten minutes into the movie, Lance fluffs an accent pillow under his head and lies down, kicking off his shoes and stretching his legs across Keith’s lap. “Okay?” He asks.

Emily’s drifting off, sucking a pacifier, so Keith pulls Lance’s legs closer to him in answer. Turns out, Lance is a very fidgety movie watcher, his feet never stop moving. Keith tries to wrangle his flailing limbs unsuccessfully. Keith manages to hold his feet still for moment, just long enough to tickle the undersides of Lance’s feet. He yelps and kicks free.

Keith whispers, “Shh. You’ll wake her up.”

Lance gets this glint in his eye and the two end up in a leg wrestling match. Lance wins mostly due to his longer legs and cheating tendencies. But, Keith doesn’t mind. He especially doesn’t mind when Lance perches himself atop his lap.

Lance looks squeamish at first, but just grins, and leans down to Keith’s lips. He’s pressing his body to Keith’s, and doesn’t seem to deny it one bit. Keith toys with the hair at the nape of Lance’s neck, relishing its soft, silken texture.

Lance raises his head and looks at Keith, and must see the desire and need they’re both feeling because he resumes. Only he shifts and rolls off the sofa. Keith reaches out to stop his fall, but plops down on top of him. They take a moment to consider what just happened, and both giggle softly. Lance takes Keith in his arms, their foreheads falling together.

Emily whimpers and they halt the action to check on her. Sound asleep.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Lance says gently.

“If she wakes up, I have plenty of bottles in the fridge.”

Lance clicks his tongue. “I don’t mean that.”

“Oh.” But he wants to. And no one’s there to stop him. Keith kisses him. The kiss stretches on and he feels that hitch in his lower belly.

Lance breaks off the kiss and says, “Do you think this is some kind of revenge thing?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

He smiles, kissing Keith again. Lance’s lips are so soft, and Keith’s need is so great. His hands have a mind of their own and begin to roam up his sides and down his slender legs.

Keith gets a thought to sneak a hand between Lance’s thighs, but decides against it after remembering how Sam used to do it to him, and how it made him feel. Weak. And unimportant. Instead, his hand settles on Lance’s hip, meeting warm, soft skin that hardly seemed real. None of it seemed real. Lance kissing him, them actually getting along despite the situation.

They’re lying side by side when Lance breaks away suddenly to say, “He’d never let it get this far without making it weird. Groping and stuff. Even though I told him I was… still a virgin.” Lance’s eyes lower.

“What?” Keith’s eyes bulge. “No way. In six months, you never…?”

“I won’t lie to you. I wanted to. He wanted to do it in my car, which I thought was gross. I told him I’d split the cost of a hotel room, as long as it wasn’t infested with roaches and bedbugs.”

Keith looks down. He didn’t know what to say. Sam told him the same thing, minus the hotel room, of course. He always expected Keith to make time when his parents were away to call him over. Keith never wanted to have him over for that reason.

Lance must’ve took notice of Keith’s expression because the next thing he knew, Lance was reaching for his hand, and laced their fingers together. He brushed his thumb over the back of Keith’s hand. It was comforting...

Emily awakes suddenly with a cry. The moment was over.

Lance pushes to his feet and lifts her out of the playpen. “She’s wet.”

“I’ll get a diaper,” Keith says.

He runs upstairs with wings on his feet. They never did it. Keith didn’t know why it made a difference, except it was the one thing Sam wanted and never got. From either of them.

Once Emily’s in a fresh diaper, they head into the kitchen with her in tow, the movie long forgotten.

“Hungry?” Keith asks.

“A little.” Lance places Emily in her high chair.

Keith goes into the pantry, returning with a box of Apple Jacks. “Cereal okay?”

“Yep.”

Keith pulls out two bowls and spoons. His back is to Lance as he pours the cereal. That's when he hears the first song. A slow, sensational beat, then a woman’s sultry voice. Keith already recognized _her._

“Why do you love her music so much?” Keith brought the bowls to the counter, Lance was playing with Emily's feet, she giggled.

“Beyoncé? Because she’s _amazing._ ” Lance hummed along as she sang about not being an angel.

Keith snorts, going to the fridge for milk. Allura told him the same thing.

“I mean it. Her music… it gives people hope… and she gives pretty good advice, too.”

“Okay,” Keith poured milk into the bowls. “I get it.”

“Take this song for instance,” Lance tapped around on his phone for a moment, then a new song played. A spicy, upbeat song, different from the one Lance’d just played. “It’s a duet. Her and Shakira. I love the lyrics.” Lance shimmied to the beat, Emily clapped her hands too. Even she was captivated by the woman’s poise.

Keith plays around with his cereal, halfway listening to the Beyoncé’s breathy voice on the verse. But the chorus… It struck a chord with Keith.

_Let's not kill the karma,_

_Let's not start a fight._

_It's not worth the drama,_

_For a beautiful liar._

_Can't we laugh about it,_

_It's not worth our time._

_We can live without him,_

_Just a beautiful liar._

Lance just shook his hips to the song, hardly thinking about the deeper connection it had to them. Sam… He did all of those things and more to them. It was funny, Keith thought. Lance liking the lyrics, but hardly paying attention their meaning.

“It’s sort of like what we’re going through.” Keith said to himself, not really thinking Lance was listening to him.

The volume of the song diminished, and Lance replied, “Now that you say that, it does.”

Keith looked up as Lance stared off into the distance. Keith hopped that he hadn’t ruined the moment.

“He really was a beautiful liar,” Lance says finally, and meets Keith’s eyes. “He hurt us both… But that doesn’t mean we won’t get past this… We’ll do it together.” Then he digs into his soggy cereal.

* * *

 

After Lance leaves, Keith knows exactly what to do his critical analysis paper on. Hopefully, Coran has seen _Forrest Gump_ and understands its contribution to the role of humor in bolstering the spirit of humanity.

Keith finishes his outline and lies in bed, replaying the events of today in his head. Did Lance make the first move? Did Keith? Did Lance want him as much as he wanted him? And was it for revenge, like Lance said? God, it was all so confusing.

Keith knew he should feel guilty and ashamed about falling for Lance, especially since Sam’s been dead for such a short time. But wasn’t _he_ the one who said how lucky they were that coincidence brought them together?

The baby monitor echoes a muffled wailing from Emily’s room. Keith runs in and finds her turned over onto her stomach, trying to roll back. Resettling her, Keith hums softly, rubbing her arm the way Lance did, but it doesn’t get her back to sleep, so Keith picks her up and takes her downstairs. In the living room, Keith puts her in her baby swing and tugs it over in front of the TV. It probably doesn't matter what she watches or when, but who knows how early in life a baby can damaged by all the sex and violence on TV? Keith remotes around until he finds _Steven Universe._ Good. Not vulgar at all.

The phone rings and Keith’s heart leaps, thinking it’s him.

Catherine says, “I hope I didn’t wake you up. Just checking in.”

Checking up is more like it. And of course, Lance wouldn’t call on the home phone. Keith reassures his mom that all the knives were sharpened with no bloodshed.

She says, “We’ll be home in the morning, but we switched to an earlier flight.”

Why? What if Lance comes again? “Stay another night if you want,” He tells her. “Stay two nights.”

“We could never do that. We miss you too much.”

Is she serious? It’s only been a day and a half. Keith thought they’d want to get away more often. He can’t even remember the last vacation they took alone.

Out of nowhere, she goes, “We’re really proud of you, Keith.”

For finally being the brother he always should’ve been? A lump forms in his throat.

“Keith?”

“Emily just woke up. I better see if she needs a bottle or something.” He mumbles a quick good-bye. Emily’s glued to the TV and Keith thinks, ‘Great. Now I’ve planted the seed for a couch potato.’

As if she read his mind, Emily whines like she’s hungry. Keith warms a bottle and cradles her in his arms on the sofa, singing softly as she suckles. The first song that comes to mind is _Something Entirely New_ from _Steven Universe_. Emily seems to like it because she grins and claps her hands.

Keith wonders what Lance’s doing now. If he’s attracted to Keith as much as Keith is to him. He thinks about calling or texting Lance and asking him point-blank.

Like middle school: _Do you like me?_

Emily's bottle rolls off Keith’s foot and he blinks back to the present. She’s sound asleep. Keith turns off the TV and gingerly lifts her up, draping her over his shoulder without a towel. If she spits up, milky goo will probably run down his back.

Keith doesn't even care.

His cell chirps upstairs and Keith wants so badly to take two stairs at a time, but it would jar Emily awake.

After tucking her in and stroking her forehead a few times, he tiptoes to his room.

A text message from Lance:

_I’m sorry if I went too far today_

Keith texts back:

_No. I am_

It takes him a long time to reply and Keith thinks the conversation’s over. Another text arrives:

_We need to stop apologizing. It was the same with beautiful liar. I was always apologizing for something, always feeling bad or inadequate_

Keith smiles to himself, then texts:

_Me too_

All these memories come surging back. Sam hated Keith’s clothes; told him to lose weight, exercise more. He didn’t like Keith’s taste in music and movies. He resented the fact that Keith had to eat dinner with his family, and spend weekends doing chores or homework. Any time Keith wasn’t available was like an insult.

Lance texts:

_He’d show up at my school and expect me to just take off. I couldn’t do that. I had swimming, and a job. Then he’d accuse me of not loving him enough_

Keith texts:

_That sounds familiar_

Except unlike Lance, Keith did give up his life for him. Parts of it.

Lance texts:

_How’s it going with Emily?_

_Good. Great. She woke up and I got her back to sleep. You wove some kind of magical spell on her and now she loves me_

He texts:

_She’s always loved you_

Keith reads that line again and realizes that he’s always loved her.

 _I had fun today_ , Lance texts. _I always have fun with you_

_Me too_

_Que tengas dulces sueños. That means sleep well_

_U 2. That means you too_

_You’ve got jokes_

After they disconnect, Keith lies in the dark and gazes into it, feeling slightly intoxicated. Something—a flickering light—bounces off the ceiling. It’s Sam’s cell on his dresser. A final memory sears Keith’s brain. Something Sam said a few days before Keith decided he was ready. They were at Sam’s house, alone which was rare, and Keith almost, almost let him go all the way. When he pushed him off at the last second, Sam said, “For fuck’s sake, Keith. I’ve never met anyone who hasn’t had sex by the time they were seventeen.”

Liar, liar, liar.

Keith straggles out of bed, and snatches the phone off his desk. He tosses it into his closet, where it hits the wall and falls behind a pair of winter boots. Keith shuts the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love this chapter so much, it's when the book started to pick up. what about y'all????? catch us down in the comments :333


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lance and keith go on a date and shiro sees them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lateness, so here's a longer chapter. enjoy! <3

Catherine and Brad walk in around noon, as Emily’s finishing up brunch. There’s baby cereal splattered all over Emily and Keith, the table, and the walls. Keith was hoping to have a chance to swab the deck before they got home. Emily squeals and reaches up for Brad. He takes her, giving her tummy farts. She giggles her head off.

Keith says, “I know it’s a mess—”

“You done good, kiddo,” Brad cuts in. “Thanks for stepping up.” He balances Emily on his hip and gives Keith a little squeeze around the shoulder.

Actual physical contact. Keith starts rinsing out a sponge at the sink to wipe down the walls.

“Don’t worry about this.” Brad waves Keith off and tells Emily, “Say da-da.”

Catherine murmurs in Keith's ear, “I told him Emily said ma-ma first, and now he’s jealous as hell.”

Whoa. They rarely cursed.

Keith leaves the sponge on the counter and asks, “Can I go out for a while?”

“Sure,” Catherine says. “And thank you again, Keith.”

Keith can't grab his jacket off the back of the chair fast enough.

At the first stop sign, he texts Lance:

_We're on_

He texts back:

_Awesome! Meet at our regular?_

Keith beats him to the McDonald’s. He tries to wait for Lance, but the smell is too tempting, so he orders his and Lance’s food, and scoots into the booth, slamming down his cheeseburger and fries. When Lance finally slips into the booth, he smiles, saying, “Ooh, I could kiss you.”

‘Do it,’ Keith thinks.

Their eyes meet and the electricity sends a shockwave through Keith’s body. Lance inhales a ginormous bite of burger and garbles, “What you want to do today?”

“I don’t know.” Keith trails off, not really sure of what Lance is comfortable doing. “Go to the gym?”

“That's fun?” Lance snorts. “Let's go to Torrey Pines while we're at it. Do some hiking.”

“I’ve gone there before.” Keith tells him. “It was cool.”

Lance stares at him for a tick, then all of the sudden bursts out laughing. It confuses the daylights out of Keith.

“What’s funny?”

“I was just joking!” He wipes a tear from his eye. Keith honestly didn't think it was funny at all. “But, it looks like you need a refresher on what's _fun._ ”

“So… hiking isn't fun?”

“Yeah, no. Not at all.” Lance took a sip of his drink. “I mean for some people it is, but just as a recreational activity, it’s _not_ fun.”

Keith never knew so much went into deciding what fun was.

“Well, what is?” Keith asked.

Lance just laughed again. Keith was so, so confused.

Eventually (once he finishes cackling), Lance asks, “How about Belmont Park? It’s actually fun, not hiking fun. You’ll love it.”

“Sounds awesome.”

Lance pulls out his phone, going to the Belmont Park website. They pore over it. It does look fun. Tons of rides and attractions. Keith was glad Lance’d suggested it over hiking. The only turn-off was the price. Fifty dollars for one person. Yikes.

Lance says, “I’ll pay since you paid for lunch.”

“Yeah, but that was only twenty bucks. This is a _hundred_.”

“Don't worry about it.” Lance waves a hand dismissively. “Besides, this is a dire situation. You're suffering from fun withdrawal.”

Keith could only stare at him.

Lance suggests that they take Keith’s car, because he doesn’t feel comfortable leaving his own in the parking lot at McDonald’s. He asks if Keith’ll follow him home.

As Keith drives through La Jolla, he notes the million dollar homes they pass, silently wondering what exactly Lance’s parents did. They had to be fricking neurosurgeons.

They pass the University of California, San Diego. The university itself is spread across plots of land with buildings of diverse architectural styles. Students were out playing Frisbee or walking to or from dorms.

Shortly after they pass the school, Lance swerves to a curb. Keith pulls in behind him.

Lance hops out of his car, and says, “Come meet my family.”

Keith gets out, glancing up at the house. It was slightly less intimidating than the houses from earlier, but still… It was equally remarkable. The stucco and stone exterior gave it a sophisticated look, but the bikes, kites, and other toys strewn across the yard said otherwise.

They start up the walk, Keith’s heart is threatening to beat clean out of his chest.

Lance opens the door and calls, “Mamá!”

“In here!” A voice, apparently Lance’s mom, calls from another room. “And stop slamming my doors!”

Keith’s stomach dropped. This woman sounded incredibly intense. He couldn’t do this without making a fool of himself.

Lance looks over at Keith and takes in his nervous state. He smiles reassuringly, and gives Keith a quick peck on the cheek before he whispers, “Calm down.”

Keith blushes and nods before he follows Lance into the next room where a lady is sitting folding clothes and watching TV.

“Mamá,” Lance says. “I want you to meet someone.”

She turns around, and the resemblance is definitely there. They have the same nose and skin tone. Her dark hair is pulled up into a messy bun, highlighting her round, plump face. She resembled an angel, or a cherub. Keith just gawked at the woman.

“This is Keith.” Lance nudges him forward a bit. Keith is stiff as a board.

“Hello, Keith. I’m Linda.” She stands, and for a moment Keith thinks he’s hallucinating because at her full height, the woman is shorter than him. That was saying something. “Doesn’t speak much does he?”

Keith comes back to Earth and realizes that Linda’s extended her hand to him and he hasn’t taken it.

“He does.” Lance answers. “I think he’s just nervous.”

“Sorry.” Keith grasps her hand. It’s a little bit smaller than his. “Nice to meet you.”

“Mhm.” She clucks her tongue, which only confuses Keith even more. “Lance’s told me everything about you.”

Keith widens his eyes at Lance. Like what?

Lance smacks his lips. “Hey!”

“Shoo.” Linda directs it at Lance and pulls Keith closer to her. “Go find something else to do. I wanna talk to _Keith._ ” She says his name like it’s something pleasant, like the name of a perfume or cologne.

“Guess I’ll go grab a jacket in case it gets windy,” Lance shrugs, leaving Keith alone with his mother.

Keith wants to cry, ‘Don’t leave me!’, but Lance is already up the stairs.

Lance’s mom says, “Sit,” indicating a well-worn sofa. Keith sinks into it. She plops into a leather recliner across from Keith, and moves the clothes over, giving Keith her full attention. “Tell me about yourself.”

Keith gulps. What does she want to know?

“How do you know Lance?” she asks.

“Um, we’re just friends.”

She smiles as if she read more into that than intended. “Just friends?”

Keith probably has visible sweat beads streaming down his face. This was torture. God, he hoped Lance had found a freaking coat and was on the way down. He glanced over to the stairs, instinctively, and instead of finding them empty, he saw a pair of dark eyes staring right back at him. Animals? Keith averted his eyes from the sight, somewhat uneasily.

“Fine.” Linda says when Keith doesn’t say anything else. “I won’t push anything else out of you.”

“I, um, don’t go to his school.” Keith offers.

“No?” She arches her bushy eyebrows. “Where do you go?”

“Temecula Valley.”

“That’s a way from here.”

Keith nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. What now?

“So, where are you going today?” She asks.

“An amusement park.” Keith says, not directly wanting to tell where they were going. Was she fine with Lance paying for other people’s tickets? Probably not. “My parents just got back from San Francisco, so we haven’t had a chance to go out and do something in a while.” Keith cringed, to himself as soon as the words left his mouth. It sorta sounded like he was admitting to them going out.

“Oh,” She hardly seemed fazed. “They travel a lot?”

“Hardly ever.”

Keith glances back at the staircase, and now there are three sets of eyes staring back at him. Dear God, they’d multiplied. Keith was about to inform Linda of her pest problem, but one set of the eyes moved, and it was only when they’d appeared in the entrance to the room, that Keith noticed the eyes belonged to a little girl.

The girl had brown shoulder-length hair and chestnut eyes. She sauntered over to the sofa where Keith was sitting and plopped down beside him. She straightened the tiara on top of her head before she looked up at Keith and gave him a dazzling smile. Except she was missing her two front teeth.

“I’m Zoe.” She gave a little hair flip. “What's your name?”

“Um, Keith.”

“ _Keith._ ” She said his name in the same matter that Lance’s mother had. “You have pretty eyes, Keith.”

Keith couldn’t contain his shock and blush. How was he supposed to respond to that? One thing was certain, her bluntness was identical to that of Lance’s.

“Zoe.” Linda’s voice was taut. “Go back upstairs.”

“I’m trying to have conversation, Mamá.” She was quite the drama queen. To Keith, she says, “My brother and sister are over there,” She points to the base of the stairs where a girl identical to her (except for the pigtails and significantly less girly clothing) stood with a boy that closely resembled them both. They both gave a little wave. Keith couldn’t bring himself to wave back. “Aaand we wanted to know if Lance was your boyfriend.”

Keith’s cheeks are on fire now.

Linda jumps up with surprising speed, her finger already wagging. “Back upstairs, Zoe!”

“But, Mamá—”

“¡ _C_ _á_ _llate_! Upstairs, now!”

Zoe sighs sadly, and stands. “Bye, Keith.” She gives a beauty pageant wave, and sashays off, not before Linda lays a firm hand to her rear-end.

Keith watches as the she marches behind the girl and rounds up her siblings (Mia and Bobby, right?), forcing them all up the stairs (all while shouting in Spanish). Lance happens to be coming down the stairs at this time and hardly seems fazed by his mother chastising the children.

“Ready?” Lance has a green jacket thrown over his shoulder. He spent a good five minutes upstairs finding the world’s ugliest jacket? Wow.

“I’ve been ready.” Keith stands and follows Lance out of the living room.

“Sorry, I was talking to Luci.”

“About what?” What could've possibly been so important?

“You.” He gives a genuine smile.

Keith looks away.

“I apologize for _mamá_ too. I know she’s a little overbearing.”

“No, no. Your mom’s nice… It’s just a lot to take in at once.”

“Yeah, I know. But I think she likes you.”

Really? Keith could hardly tell what with Zoe’s longing gazes.

“She’s not the only one.” Keith only mumbles this part, but Lance picks it up.

“Uh-oh. What happened?”

Keith swallows, and lurches for the door. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

“Was it Zoe? I bet it was.”

Keith is out of the door and in the car before Lance can grill him on it anymore.

Lance comes down the walk, laughing. He still is when he gets in the car. “Don’t worry,” His head falls against Keith’s shoulder. “I won’t let her steal you away from me.”

* * *

 

The park is huge. Keith wonders if they’ll have time to do it all in only a couple of hours, but Lance grips his wrist tightly, and pulls him behind him through the crowd of people.

Ride after ride, attraction after attraction. It’s the most fun Keith’s had in a long time. He actually enjoys listening to Lance scream to the top of his lungs on every jarring ride, and he especially loves the look on Lance’s face when they get off of every ride. He looks euphoric. At peace. A steady sense of ease fell over Keith as he stared into the face of the beautiful boy beside him. He felt free. Like he could finally move on from everything holding him back.

One ride in particular has a large drop, and they’ve strapped into their seats when Lance sneaks his hand over to Keith’s and clutches it firmly. Keith’s heart races. It feels so right and… real. He laces his fingers through Lance’s just before they reach quite possibly the largest drop ever, and screams in unison with Lance. Their grip never breaks. Even after they leave the ride.

Eventually, Lance spots a churro stand and dashes off to buy one. Keith leans against a wall, crossing his arms. His gaze wanders across the mass of people, and for a moment, he swears he sees someone with a headful of white lustrous locks. Allura? But Lance rushes up before he can decipher if it was really her.

They split the churro (Lance’s pocket was probably running dry), and Keith sighs contently. Lance glances down at him and smiles. He licks some sugar off his lip before he says, “Are you having fun?”

Keith nods. “Yeah. It’s a lot better than Torrey Pines, that’s for sure.”

Keith looks up at Lance and sees that he’s beaming. Keith couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen anyone smile so big and goofy. Not even Sam.

“Then my job here is done.” Lance says, extending his hand out for Keith to take. Keith grasps it, and they slowly start to walk towards the exit, still munching on their churros. But something catches Lance’s attention.

“Wait? Bumper cars! We've gotta do that before we go.” Lance drags him away from the exit to the cars, but Keith doesn't care. So long as he's with Lance.

Lance darts to a nearby trashcan to toss away their trash, when Keith catches a glimpse of the same luscious white locks from earlier. As they turn around, Keith realizes it's definitely Allura. Oh crap.

But she doesn't see him. At least Keith doesn't think she does. She’s walking off to someone else by the trashcan Lance is currently approaching. Fuck.

Except nothing happens. Allura stops just before the can, conversing with a kinda tall guy, wait, Keith recognized that fade and white forelock anywhere. It was Shiro. Double fuck.

Lance is on his was back, and Keith is thinking it'll be alright, he’ll just hold his head down and slip right on by them. But now, Allura and Shiro are heading their way. It was only a matter of time before they ran smack into him.

“Keith?” Lance is by his side. “What's wrong?”

“We… we've gotta hide.”

“What? Why?”

Keith glances up again, directly into Shiro’s eyes. He was so screwed.

He grabbed Lance’s wrist and tugged him through the thick crowd of people. Keith could hear Shiro’s voice, but he ignored it, along with Lance’s protests.

It's only when they're safely tucked away in an alley between two buildings that Keith turns to Lance who’s as out of breath as him.

“Geez,” Lance wheezes. “If you wanted privacy, you could've just said so, and we could've headed back to the car.”

“No.” Keith shakes his head. “I was running from someone.”

“Who?”

“My… friends.”

Lance thought for a moment. “Shiro and… Allura, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I wanna meet them.”

Keith had no idea how that would go. So he just gave Lance a look.

“But… you don't want me to.”

“No, it's not that, of course I want you to meet them, but… I just don't know how they'd react.”

Lance is silent for a tick. Then he says, “I understand.” He gives Keith's forehead a little peck and leads him back out into the crowd of people towards the bumper cars. “I'm ready to do it when you're comfortable.”

* * *

 

Keith’s phone buzzes in his pocket as he’s walking to the car with Lance. It's his mom.

“Where are you?” She asks.

“Mission Bay.”

“Mission Bay! Doing what?”

Keith almost says, ‘having the time of my life.’ “At Belmont Park.”

“Are you alone?”

God. He should've known it was coming sooner or later. “No,” Keith tells her.

“Are you with Shiro?”

Keith sighed. “No.” Why was Shiro suddenly everywhere he turned?

“Who are you with?”

Why does it matter to her? “My friend Lance.” Becoming more than a friend.

Catherine asks, “Will you be home for dinner?”

He has to be, doesn't he? Keith checks his phone for the time. It’s after three. That should be plenty of time. “Yeah.”

“You can ask your friend to come, too, if you want.”

He definitely is _not_ ready to thrust Lance into the Kogane pit. After seeing how Lance’s family was, Keith half expected his own family to act worse.

They continue to the car and Keith unlocks the doors with the key fob. He expects Lance to get in, but instead he snakes his arms around Keith's full waist, pulls him closer, and kisses him. Keith feels his jacket slide to the ground and his knees go weak. They might’ve stayed like that for hours if someone hadn’t driven up next to them and honked.

They both climb into the car, look at each other, and laugh.

A crazy, out-of-nowhere laugh.

That night Lance texts Keith:

_Best. Day. Ever_

Keith texts back:

_What’s better than best?_

They text for a while, until Keith hears Brad’s beeper go off. It’s after midnight and Keith knows he must be exhausted.

Lance texts:

_Thanks for following me again_

It reminds Keith that he needs to send Lance his class schedule.

Keith texts:

_School night. You better get your dulces sueños in_

_Ha. U 2_

After they hang up, Keith grabs his laptop to send Lance his schedule. Keith want his, too, including work and extracurricular.

Keith notices his profile says he’s still ‘In a Relationship’, but Sam’s name is gone. When Keith looks for him in his followers, he’s disappeared. Someone took down his page. Which is just as well. Keith changes his relationship status to Single.

Then he has this wild idea. He’ll probably say no, or ignore it, but Keith at’s Lance in his profile, then shoots him a message letting him know. Keith refreshes the page and second later and smiles. Lance had added Keith in his bio.

* * *

 

When Keith hands in his critical analysis outline to Coran, he seems impressed. It’s so much more than a single paragraph. Of course, if he doesn’t approve of the topic, Keith’s back to square one. A smile curls the corners of Coran’s mouth and he says, “I love this movie.”

Score!

The paper isn’t due for a while, but if Keith hunkers down he can finish it in two or three nights. He knows the grade on his persuasive paper is on his permanent record, but an A on this one might boost his average to a C+ or B-.

Keith is feeling particularly upbeat, so he goes to lunch and sits down with Shiro and Allura. Which was a huge mistake. Shiro’s on him before he can even get a bite of his salad in.

“Keith, I saw you at Belmont Park! Why did you run away?”

Allura sighs. “Shiro. I’ve told you all day. That wasn't Keith.” She turns to the next page in her book. “You should get your eyes checked.”

“I know it was him.” Shiro insists. “I made eye contact with him.”

“Keith,” Allura says rubbing her temples, “Were you really there? Please tell me before Shiro loses it.”

Keith looks directly into Shiro’s eyes. “I don’t recall.”

“I saw you! I know it!” Shiro is adamant. “You were with a guy, and when you saw me, you got him and hightailed it outta there.”

“Wait, wait… You were with a guy?” Allura glances at Keith, an inquisitive look on her face.

“So, you believe me now?” Shiro says.

“You wouldn’t lie about him dating someone.” She turns back to Keith. “When were you going to tell us you were dating someone?”

Keith snorts. “When were you going to tell me _you_ were dating.” He looks between Shiro and Allura.

Shiro looks puzzled, and Allura simply waves her hand dismissively. “It wasn’t a date. Shiro wanted me to go with him because his grandparents were bu— Wait a tick, you admit to being there!”

Keith gives Shiro (who appears disheartened) a look, then turns his attention back to Allura. “Yeah, okay. I was there. So?”

“ _So_ , you weren’t going to let us meet him?”

“No.”

Allura and Shiro share a look, and Keith could tell then that the two were hatching a plan of attack. Keith could care less. He wasn’t ready for them to meet Lance. He just wasn’t.

* * *

 

Lance spends practically every day either at practice, at work, or with his family. Keith doesn't really see anything of him other than the occasional call or text. He misses being with Lance. Physically.

At dinner on Thursday Catherine says, “Earth to Keith.”

“Huh?”

“We were asking what you wanted to do for spring break.” 

“Nothing special.” Keith says. Except spending every waking hour with Lance.

After dinner, Keith goes upstairs to his room and his phone buzzes. Thinking it's Lance, Keith answers. His ears are filled with a slur of profanities. “Stay the fuck outta my life!” It’s Jason. “You have no idea what’s going on, and anyway it’s none of your fucking business!”

Keith is in shock at first. Then he realizes his dad must've talked to Justin.

“It’s my life,” Jason screams. “And what I do in my time doesn’t have a fucking thing to do with you!”

“It does when I can see you tearing your life apart.”

“What do you know?” Jason spats.

“I know that you haven’t talked to anyone since Sam died. You chain smoke blunts. And you deal too. I took you to your supplier’s house, remember?”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

 Keith scoffs. “I notice things, Jason. I’m not stupid.”

“Huh,” Jason sorta snorts. “You’re smarter than you look.”

That’s all it takes for Keith to snap and yet again go off on Jason. “Fuck you. If all you’re gonna do is insult me, then I don’t want to hear it. Don’t call me with this shit again.”

Keith ends the call and tosses his phone on his bed. Then the bedroom door swings open and Catherine steps in looking quite flustered.

 “Keith, who in the world are you talking to?” Catherine demands.

Of course, she would be the one to overhear the conversation.

“No one.” Keith says.

Catherine crosses her arms over her chest. “Now I know you aren’t in here talking to yourself like that.”

Keith keeps quiet. He wonders how much of the conversation she heard. When Catherine sees that Keith isn’t talking, she sighs.

“Okay, don’t tell me then. Just know that I don’t want to hear you using those words ever again.” She turns and leaves the room.

Once she’s out of his sight Keith says, “Shit.”

Later on that night, when Keith is getting ready for bed his phone buzzes. It’s a text. From Jason.

_Sam’s the only one who got me_

That may be true, but even after all the shit Jason had done to him, Keith still cared about him. Keith wants to ask him if he’s in counseling yet and if Justin is doing anything to help.

Jason texts:

_My fucking bitch of a dad stole Sam’s iPad from my room._

‘Why do you need it?’ Keith thinks. ‘You have memories.’ Keith wants to tell him this, but he knows that it would only set off another rant.

_Do you have any pictures? I want all the pictures of him that everybody has. He was my brother, and they belong to me._

Pictures. Keith does have the pictures from Sam’s cell that he uploaded to his laptop. He could put them on a flash drive and delete them from the computer. That would remove every trace of Sam from his life. Except the cell.

Keith knows it’s what he needs. But is it what he wants?

Jason texts:

_I know you have pictures on your cell_

Keith blinks back to the moment and finally texts:

  _Yeah, I do. I could put them on a flash drive, and you could get prints._

Jason stalls before he texts back:

_I can’t afford to make prints. Could you do it?_

Still forcing him to pay. Somehow, Keith brought himself to say no. Maybe it was his empty wallet.

_I can’t. Sorry_

Jason sends:

_If you could, then I’d forgive you._

It irritates Keith so much that he doesn’t even reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any thoughts? comment below!


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